


In the Air

by witchybusiness



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Female Apprentice (The Arcana), Graphic Depictions of Illness, My First Fanfic, Original Character(s), Smut, Sorry Not Sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-03-13 09:05:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 26,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18937798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchybusiness/pseuds/witchybusiness
Summary: Takes place before the main storyline, where the Apprentice works in Julians clinic. Graphic depictions of disease, graphic smut, future angst and sadness (sorry in advance). Also my very first fan fiction ever I'm so sorry if it's terrible ;m; also I edit the chapters frequently because I'm living proof that 1000 proof reads will STILL result in me missing SOMETHING lmfao





	1. Chapter 1

It had only been six months since the Plague had spread through the city. It had only been two weeks since Asra left, Faust wrapped over his shoulders and bag in hand. He had shifted the large feathered hat over his head distractedly, trying to work up the courage to ask me what he wanted to ask.

"It's not too late, Astrid. You can come with me. Escape until the disease dies down. There's room on the ship. I'll need you in Prakra." He had looked at me imploringly, violet eyes glazed with the hint of tears, though the expression on his face was annoyingly stoic. I shook my head, avoiding his gaze and picking at the hem of my apron.

"I can't, master. You know that. People are dying. I've already found a clinic to apprentice at. I'm going to help figure out a cure." My throat choked at the end, tightening with the desire to cry. He looked at me hard for another few seconds. He knew what I knew, that my chances of being alive by the time he returned being less than fifty percent. He knew that this might be the last time he saw me.

For a moment, I thought he would say something else. His mouth turned down at the corners and parted slightly. Then the hard, determined expression took over his features again.

"Very well. If you need me, you'll know how to find me." With a swift turn, he walked out the door, shutting it quietly behind him, as though closing the door at a wake. The shop suddenly felt cooler, and I had felt like a pet being left behind before a disaster.

 

The quietness of the shop without him startled me. He had never stayed long, but at this point the silence felt different. Mournful, almost. It was a feeling that blanketed the entire city. Whenever the streets weren't lined with the rattling carts taking the dead to the docks, the funeral like quiet in the air was palpable.

It had been into this silence that I stepped out into the street the next morning, covering every inch of skin I could. I slid my shawl over myself and locked the shop door. There was no need to put any protective charms on it anymore. Nothing in there was worth anything to anyone but me.

Down the street I went, and while it was empty this time of the morning, I knew that in just a few hours the bodies of those who had died in the night or those on the edge would be carted out towards the sea. Towards the Lazaret, where in the end it seemed we all would meet our death. It loomed like a titan on the edge of the horizon.

The clinic wasn't far, and looked unassuming from the outside. It looked as though it had been converted from an old tavern, it's owners now probably burning in the pits of the Lazaret themselves. A single makeshift sign hung above the door, clearly carved quickly from a plank of wood found on the streets: Doctor Devorak's Clinic: Enter at Own Risk.

I entered, and the inside was already lined with white cots. Some of them were empty, some had linen covered bodies laying very still. Others had feeble figures, shaking with coughs and convulsions, red scleras blinking in and out of view as they flashed open and closed. The walls were lined with linen sheets, and dark wood paneling peeked out between the fraying edges. The floor was made of the same worn wood as the walls, and I was disturbed to see the dark brown stains of old blood stuck inside the grain.

Several nurses hustled past me, dressed in long gowns with white face masks.

"Excuse me?" I called to one of them.

"Put a mask on dear or you'll end up in one of these beds yourself." A plump nurse tossed me a white cloth. I quickly tied it around the back of my head, tucking away the dark red strands caught up in the knot. It smelled like herbs and an alcohol antiseptic.

"I'm looking for Doctor Devorak. I-"

"In the back dear, in his office." She interrupted me and dabbed a potent smelling solution onto a convulsing child's forehead. I nodded slightly, looking away from the shaking bodies. I already felt nauseous in here just from the smell of the blood.

The back of the building was, blissfully (I am ashamed to admit) free of occupied cots. A few makeshift operation tables lined the back wall next to a large wooden door. It was darker back here, lit only by a few lanterns on the wall. I approached the large door, and knocked curtly.

"Come in." Called a tired, worn voice. It was raspy, as though the speaker had been yelling or crying for a while before I had come along to interrupt.

I entered, closing the door quickly behind me. It was warmer in here than outside. The cold, antiseptic smell of the clinic was dulled by the heavy scents of leather, smoke, and coffee that seemed to permeate the office. Shoddy shelves lined the walls, covered with books and small glass vials that looked to contain leeches. A black cloak was thrown over a chair in the corner. More books covered in hastily scrawled notes littered the table, and in some places, the floor. But the most interesting thing in the room was seated at the desk itself.

"Doctor Devorak?" I asked. A tall, lanky, auburn-haired man sat bent nearly double over a large oak desk. His mask was set off to the side, a glaring white raven with shiny glass eyes, the color of rubies. He's handsome, I had thought quickly. Strong nose, pale skin, and striking grey eyes. A dusting of freckles spattered across his features like stars in the sky. He had the air of both a tragically attractive actor and a heartbreaking sailor all at once. I didn't have long to admire him before his eyes flicked up towards mine. God his eyelashes are long, the bastard-

"I'm guessing you're the one who wrote that letter asking to help with the clinic a week ago?" He asked, smiling ruefully, as he snapped shut the book he had been scribbling in. A raven feather quill sat perched in a pot of blood red ink.

"That would be me, Doctor Dev-"

"Please," he interrupted, standing quickly and holding out a hand, looking interested. He towered over a foot taller than myself, though for some reason this didn't make me feel small. He had a way of looking at someone and making them feel important, that I was able to tell immediately. Probably made him a damn good doctor. "Call me Julian."

"Doc- Julian," I corrected myself as he took my hand. "As I told you in my letter, I am not medically trained, though as you know I am a mage's apprentice. I'm skilled with herbal concoctions and-,"

"Yes yes I'm aware of your supernatural tendencies." he said and waved a hand at me, shooting away my words. "I don't personally believe in all that magical nonsense but these are desperate times, and the Count has asked anyone with any skill at all to help search for a cure. Even a man of science as myself must put my faith in witches during this time."

I bristled, squaring my shoulders and trying to feel bolder.

"Then as a man of science and reason, Doctor, I'm sure you're aware that we don't like the term 'witch'. I made you aware of my background and skills before I came here, so if you're not interested-"

"No, wait, calm down!" He said quickly, moving between me and the door. I didn't like how much taller he was than me, but that didn't make me want to back down. He made a stopping motion with his hand and then ran it through his hair, apparently trying to make it seem devilishly mused. He gave me a bold smirk, that was once apologetic, understanding, and flirty all at once. I narrowed my eyes further.

"Look, Astrid, was it? I think we got off on the wrong foot." He took my hand and forearm without asking and wheeled me around into the chair opposite his desk. He took the shawl off my shoulder and draped it across the back. He's certainly slippery. He sat down behind his desk again and rested his fingertips together. He flashed that blindingly charming smile at me again.

"My apologies. Tell me about yourself and your skills." He waved his hands again in a hit me with it motion and leaned back in his chair.

"Well, while yes my primary study with Master Asra has been tarot readings, fortune telling, and spell work, my skills also include herbal remedies, zoology, and enchantments." I finished, sitting straight in the chair. I didn't want to look too comfortable in his office. He nods again, looking genuinely intrigued now.

"I took you on as my apprentice at a risk. People in this city are, mistrustful, so to say, about your kind of people. I'm curious about how this all works." He admitted the last part a little quietly. He avoided my gaze.

"Would you like a reading? Maybe then I can show you what I do." I asked. He looked up again.

"Sure. Show me what you've got." He said after a moment. I reached into my satchel and pulled out my tarot deck. It wasn't as ornate as Masters, his of his own creation, and mine of mine. The decks were only as powerful as their creators, and Asra, I knew, was rumored to have created his alongside the Arcana themselves. Mine were more simple, having none of the ornate gold and animal people that Masters had.

"Shuffle them." I demand and hand them over to Julian. He looked a little surprised, but obliged, shuffling them deftly between his long fingers. I took them back and held them between my palms. I closed my eyes and let the cards speak for me. I laid out three cards on the table.

"Arrange them in a triangle, however you feel most comfortable." I said. He does, and looked back up at me. I flipped the top left card over, looking towards his past.

"Judgement, reversed. You doubt your own abilities to do which you set out to do, and hate yourself for your own internal conflict."

I flipped the top right, the present card.

"The Sun, reversed. You've been suffering from anxiety and depression, though during these times of course this isn't uncommon. I feel like this is more about loneliness. Perhaps you're missing a family member who is far away, though your job here undoubtedly contributes to this card being here."

I flipped the last one, on the bottom. The future card.

"The Lovers, upright. You long for a companion, platonic or romantic, who understands your struggles and accepts your faults. Though given the previous two cards you feel as though this will never be possible. Given this, however," I held up the card, "I guess you won't be lonely for much longer."

Julian looked shaken, staring at the cards as though they told him much more than he had expected.

"Alright," he said, looking at me again. "You've piqued my interest. I'll take you on and train you. But I'm hard to keep up with." He threw me a slightly uncomfortable smirk.

"First things first, your hair is much too long. You'll need to tie it up. Secondly, I have a mask you can use while you're here. It was much too small for me but I'm sure it will fit you perfectly." He dug around the inside of his desk and pulled out a small red mask, beaked like his own, with glassy white eyes. I took off the cloth mask and replaced it with this new one. It already smelled like roses, camphor, and myrrh.

"Anything else?" I asked, picking my shawl off the chair behind me.

"Go get acquainted with the nurses and volunteers and I'll be out in a moment. I expect we'll be getting more patients in over the next few hours." He sighed and leaned back in the wooden chair. The shadows beneath his eyes looked permanent, as though he hasn't slept in many days. It somehow made him more handsome, giving a certain drama to his features. As though to dismiss me, he picked the book he had been writing on back up and began flipping through it once more.

I nodded quickly and gathered the cards back into my satchel, leaving him to whatever demons he had been struggling with before I entered. The air inside the clinic had thickened. Several new people had filled unoccupied cots while I was in the office doing the reading. A battered looking old women with the telltale red scleras shuffled into a bed while leaning on her thin walking stick.

"Where's her family?" I asked another volunteer nurse beside me. She had been grabbing a bundle of linen blankets.

"What family? Most of the people coming in are the last in their homes, or their living family members want nothing to do with them." She shook her head sadly, and began tucking some blankets around the small boy in the cot closest to me.

"So they're alone? All of them?" I asked in a small voice. "Even the child?" He looked so small, pale body wrapped in nothing but a blanket as he hacked his lungs away and cried. His wild red eyes raked over me and he sobbed with pain.

"That's what we're here for, love." She said, patting me understandingly on the arm, gloved hands brushing the thick cotton of my top. "You're here to help the good Doctor find a treatment or cure, and we're here to make sure these people are comfortable before they must go on."

I looked past her kind gaze into the scarlet eyes of the people lying down. Every last one of them, alone. They needed someone by their side, tending to them, letting them know they weren't entirely alone. She was right, this was what we were here for. And this was all I could offer.

 

The next week passed quickly. It had been hard the first few days, watching those who I had first seen enter the clinic leave in the same way: crammed into a cart headed for the docks. The dead and the dying were huddled together like cloth covered statues. The shadow of the Lazaret looked out of the sea, smoke growing steadily from it's shores. I had asked Julian what happened to those who lived long enough to see it when they arrived. He adamantly refused to tell me, citing some need to protect my sanity.

"Don't think on it, darling." He had said, brushing closely past me to put on his mask and gloves as he went to examine another patient in a cot by the back walls. "It's not good to let your mind wander when there are things we need to focus on. Could you grab me my notebooks and a few leeches?"

Nevertheless, I had gotten the answer from one of the cart drivers as I helped him load in the small boys body from my first day at the clinic. There were no live ones this round.

"We drop them all off with the Unspeakables." He had said in a gruff voice through the black cloth over his face. The Unspeakables were the ones tasked with caring for the Lazaret, disposing of the bodies. "Not sure what they do with 'em. Whether they let them die on their own or put them out of their misery themselves. Either way, they all end up in the pits." He said, gazing up at the smoke flowing from the island across the sea. Even from this part of the shore I could smell the roasting of diseased flesh.

I had been so sick from the interaction that I stumbled inside and vomited into a bucket in the floor. A nurse patted my back and helped me back up to my feet. Julian had sat me down in his office with a cup of tea and kindly held me while I cried into his shoulder.

With time, it became easier. I was more detached, but I could never venture far from the outstretched fingers of some poor wretch dying by my side. Julian and I were getting nowhere, experimenting with different remedies and healing spells, but nothing worked for long. It was hard, feeling useless towards finding a treatment, let alone a cure. I did what I could to ease the passing, and assisted Julian with whatever he needed.

The hardest day so far had come when a pregnant woman stumbled in looking for comfort. Her husband, she told me as she wept red tears from her scarlet eyes, had died a few days before. I did not tell her that I remembered moving his cold body onto a cart heading to sea. And now, she and her unborn son would not soon be long for this world. Her death that very night had been enough to send me into a spiral. I had slumped meekly into a chair in the back of the building, trying to find some part of myself that hadn't died with any of the patients. It was a numb sort of pain, a powerful ache that seemed to pull at the very deepest of my heart strings.

"C'mon, up." A pair of large gloved hands lifted me off a chair in the back where the nurses rested between shifts. It was Julian, long and lean, lifting up my slight body out of the seat. He brushed the long pieces of dark red hair from my face that had become stuck when I cried. "You need a drink. We both do."

An hour later a tankard was in my hands. Julian had sat across the both from me, no longer in his doctors attire. A simple white shirt with two broken buttons at the top and a pair of grey pants was all he needed today. The bar was nearly empty, deathly quiet. A few patrons murmured their thanks at being healthy another day before drinking their fill. Time seemed to move slowly and too fast all at once. It was nauseating. I stared into the tankard below me and refused to make eye contact with Julian.

"I don't think I ever asked much else about you besides your skills, Astrid." Julian asked, downing half his drink in one go. A line of pale golden liquid dropped down his chin and onto the table. He wiped it away casually and looked down at me.

I shrugged and traced the ridge of the glass with my pinky finger.

"I'm not particularly interesting. I was born, I live now, and one day I'll die, I suppose."

"You're not accustomed to death, are you Astrid?" He asked again after a moment. He toasted the edge of my glass somberly, and took another large swig of his own drink, finishing it. The bartender brought over another, not bothering to clear his empty glass.

"I'm not unaccustomed," I replied, almost defiantly, finally taking a gulp of the drink I had been given. It was terrible, strongly alcoholic and bitter tasting on the back of my tongue. It was like drinking dirty sea water.

"Tough childhood huh?" He asked again. Why was he so interested? I certainly wasn't an interesting person. I was small, plain, and unremarkable, but for some reason he looked at me as though I held the mysteries to the universe. It was strangely intoxicating. He was a good distraction from the horrors of the week.

"Tough as any other. Orphaned young, brought up by strangers until I could take care of myself. And then I met master."

"Master, huh? Sounds kinky." I recoil wildly, nearly knocking my drink over. He chuckled at my reaction.

"It's not like that!" I countered, slightly offended. Asra was kind and considerate, but he was more of a partner than a lover. He was a mentor, and I felt nothing but kinship with him. "He's not… He's not even my type." I blushed furiously.

"What is your type then?" Julian purred at me. I balked. How did he switch the subject so quickly?

"How can you flirt with me after today? After what I saw? That poor woman… Her husband… Her child…"

Julian sobered up at once. He took another drink from his tankard and studied my face. He looked as though he was searching for a kind way to explain his thought process without offending me any further. It was strangely sweet.

"It's much easier to deal with the hard things in life when you can indulge in the good things too. People need to be distracted sometimes, is that so bad?" He asked quietly, gazing directly at me again. I had felt a quick, pleasant increase in my heart rate every time he glanced at me. He wasn't wrong. I could have used a distraction. It just felt, inappropriate somehow. But not so inappropriate that it dampered my rising intrigue. I was human, after all.

The drink was definitely getting to me. It was deceptively strong, and I felt my inhibitions lowering themselves gradually.

"I suppose not… it's just scary. Here one minute, gone the next. Life is so fickle, especially now. I guess at this point there's nothing left to lose by being slow. We could both end up in the pits by the end of the week and it wouldn't have mattered." I finished the last of the drink, feeling the surge of daring and relaxation all at once. Another tankard was dropped at my hands by a passing barmaid.

"Wise words from a beautiful woman. Cheers," he said, clunking the top of his glass with mine. "To the thrills of life, and the tragedy of death."

 

How had I ended up here? The night was a blur of bad choices, too many drinks, glances too long, and a hand covering mine. Then it had escalated to a hug, then a kiss, then a frantic grope at my thigh, and now this.

Julians breath was hot on my own, lips working frantically at the stubborn seam of my mouth. Did I want this? Yes of course. So I parted my mouth and let him take control. Hands, where are my hands? Where are his, oh god- and I had found them, one fumbling with the key inside the shops front lock, and the other snaking its way under my dress. There was a sudden lack of secure floor under my feet, until suddenly it was on my back. I had toppled over onto my back, dropping onto the floor of the shop.

Julian dropped down to his knees to help me up.

"Are you too drunk for this, darling?" He asked nervously, gripping my waist as he led me up. Yes, way too drunk. But you want this don't you? Of course. I wanted this since I first saw his face- Instead of listening to my competing thoughts, I reached down and unlaced his pants. He stopped my hands with a pained expression on his face.

"Are you too drunk to consent?" He asked again. Not if you know you wanted this when you were sober, too. You need to make it clear or else he'll leave, and you can't be alone for another night.

"Julian, I want you. I need you. I need this-" And it was true, I did want him. Had from the first time I had seen his delicately handsome features and tall, lanky body. Alluring and attractive and much too beautiful for his own good. He groaned suddenly, primal in its tone, and grabbed at me again. That time, I was ready. I didn't lose my balance, and instead led him to the stairs. His fingers worked quickly on the back of my dress, unlacing the cheap breastband underneath, and pushing them both down my body. I hadn't been naked for a man like this in a while. I had never been shy about my body, I was comfortable with my flaws and confident in my assets. But with Julian it seemed different, like if he didn't find me attractive I would have been devastated.

A fools fear, I learned as he stared at me like I was the moon, bright and beautiful and perfect in my imperfections. It was invigorating, and he once again lunged at me like a drowning man lunged for a lifeline.

The stairs barely slowed us down, and soon we toppled onto my bed in the back of the upstairs loft. When did he take his clothes off? Because he had, indeed, taken his clothes off. Long pale body, thick auburn hair, and a pair of grey eyes that I felt stared into my very soul.

"How do you want me?" He asked, surprisingly quiet. He's nervous. Why is he nervous? This is casual, just casual, but what if this isn't casual? What if he wants more- no don't think like that-

"I don't care, I just want you. I need you in me now." I whimpered quietly, draw in him back down for a kiss as his fingers dug into the soft flesh around my hips and ass. It would leave bruises, and I didn't mind. I wanted to remember this in the morning, the long kisses and the growing heat in the base of my hips.

"Turn over then," he mumbled against my lips. "I want to make you feel good too." He looked bashful. He's not as drunk as you thought he was, or maybe he's more? It's hard to tell when he's kissing you like this and oh god you can feel his cock pressing against your leg-. I was flipped over onto all fours. I've had enough sex in my life at this point to not have been embarrassed by presenting myself in such a way, but again for some reason with him I felt nervous.

"Fuck yes, you're so gorgeous." He folded himself over me, almost as though he were just going to cradle me instead. And then suddenly he entered. I couldn't help the whine that pried itself from my throat, high pitched and extremely pitiful. I sounded like a prey caught by a predator. Fulfilling the image, he grabbed onto the soft curve of my shoulder and neck with his teeth and bit hard.

The height difference between us made it surprisingly easy for him to grab my hips around one arm and begin thrusting. His other hand rested on the bed for leverage, and his lips, god his lips spoke sweet things into my ear between hurried pants and deep groans.

"Yes, yes, say my name, lovely, say it, please-"

"J-Julian-"

"Do you feel good, darling, are you enjoying me in you?" He asked, thrusting even faster and he pushed back against my hips with fervor. I nodded, struggling to hold onto my voice as it was being pushed out of my throat with every jitter of force he sent through me. I felt too small, but in the best way. His body was large enough to cover me entirely, and it felt too intimate for casual sex.

It was hot and feverish, lasting a hundred years and only a few minutes at the same time. He grabbed me harder with every thrust, saying debauched and beautiful things into my ear. He flipped me over onto my back quickly, and took no time to begin working again. Each slam of his narrow hips brought me closer and closer to a peak, and I could feel the electricity of my impending orgasm crackle through my veins.

He must have noticed too, because he slipped a hand between our connected hips and started playing with me between every thrust. _Oh fuck, oh fuck…_

"You can be loud, darling, it's just me here," he sighed. "Be loud for me, please, I want to hear you enjoy yourself, god you're so gorgeous, so wet, so soft, so _fucking good_ -"

And that was that. The strings in my body that had been tightening all night snapped at once, and every nerve in my body seemed to sizzle with the electricity of an intense orgasm. The shivers that ran throughout my body seemed to only spur him on. He wasn't far along behind me, biting onto one of his own hands to stifle the growl of pleasure as he came into me. He rocked his hips into me slowly in time with the twitching of himself between my thighs.

I came down from the high slowly as he slumped next to me. The bed was tiny, and he took up most of the space on it by just laying on his side. He looked pleased, a perfect example of corrupted innocence. Beautiful face, flushed skin, wet lips, and the shadow of debauched pleasure still on his face. He opened a single sleepy eye and gave me a warm smirk.

"Enjoy yourself?" He asked.

"Hopefully just as much as you did." I smiled back. The heaviness of the alcohol and the exercise finally caught up with me. Julian threw my leg over his hips and wrapped and arm around my side. He breathed quietly against my cheek.

"You were _wonderful_ …" He murmurs, voice so very different from the feverish one he had before. This was sweet, polite almost, like he was afraid of asking for more. "I hope we can do this again sometime…"

"We'll see." I smiled softly and pressed my face into the curve of his neck. The heavy, yet comfortable, weight of too much alcohol and hefty satisfaction was undeniably enough to drag me into a drifting state of near consciousness. Julian sighed and pulled me closer, a source of heat in the tepid room.

Sleep came to us quickly and crashed over us like a tidal wave, and I did not dream.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part two ✌

The next morning Julian had left the bed before I did, tucking the blankets around my body. A single red rose had been left on the edge of the bed, and the shop felt cold. Lonely. Empty. I couldn't understand how I felt. Upset? Alone? Deeply satisfied?

I hadn't realized what a tension had hung over us for the past week. It had snuck up quickly on me, breaking like a wave in the doorway of the shop. Too close touches, stolen glances, maybe a hand brushing another hand. I thought I'd feel guilty after last night, sleeping with someone in a desperate attempt to feel anything after the oppression of death hung over me like a stormcloud.

But I didn't feel guilty.

Not even close.

I felt relieved. A weight had been dislodged from my shoulders temporarily, a sweet release from the death surrounding me. Us. Julian felt it too, that's why he slept with you last night, the only reason he fucked you-

Stop it. The thoughts clanged together in my head like two battering rams. It was casual, so what? This was a one time thing. Who cares?

You care.

You like him.

Standing quickly to avoid allowing my brain to move any faster than it already was, I got dressed for the day. Walking down the stairs I noticed my dress from the night before was laying, not on the steps where it had been discarded, but folded carefully and placed on the shop counter. I didn't remember doing that. Did Julian…?

No, of course not.

 

The walk to the clinic today felt easier than before. Getting up later meant missing the carts taking away the bodies in the early pre-dawn. The smoke from the Lazaret was already rising to a peak in the distance. The air felt lighter, cleaner. I knew it wasn't, and I still put on my mask and gloves as I entered the clinic. A few nurses and other volunteers moved around as I entered, counting bodies and giving patients my medicinal concoctions.

"What do you want me on today?" I called to a passing nurse.

"Why, me of course." Julian's voice was suddenly breathy against my ear. I jumped. He had come up behind me without me hearing him. He smirked at me from underneath his mask, and it startled me so much I reacted quickly.

I smacked his shoulder loudly, hard enough that his mask was knocked askew across his face. Everyone stopped. Everyone stared.

I balked. The reaction was instinctual, and out of shock rather than offense, but the damage was done.

Everyone was staring at us, and it was dead quiet. Even the victims of the plague seemed to be holding their rattling breaths.

"Jul-"

"Can we talk? In my office please?" He asked in an uncharacteristically choked voice, moving the mask back over his face. The skin underneath was flushed completely pink. Oh my god I just humiliated him in front of the nurses, the patients-

I followed him stiffly into his office, where the air felt warmer. He turned to me quickly, his jacket flapping like a cape behind him, large and ominous.

"Julian, Doctor Devorak, I'm so so-"

"That was hot."

"Excuse me, what?" 

He threw off his mask and set it on his desk. His face was, indeed, flushed, but it wasn't the bright red flush of humiliation. It was the pink flush of arousal. His eyes were extremely bright, keen with a debauched interest.

"Oh my god that turned you on?" I choked. "Wait, I'm confused, I thought last night was a one time thing? You left early, you-"

"What, did you want it to be a one time thing?" He asked, stepping forward slowly. "I haven't felt that comforted in months, darling."

"Wait, I'm the first person you've been with in months?" He shook his head and stepped forward again. All this information all at once was rattling around inside my hungover brain like buzzing wasps.

"You are. You think I just sleep around whenever it pleases me?"

"I mean, I kind of did." It seemed like him, I had thought. Obnoxiously charming and handsome as he was, I never thought that I had intrigued him so much as to entertain his sole obsession. That would be exceptionally foolish.

"And what, do you do that with any frequency?" Another step closer. I shook my head after a moment. I wasn't exactly a prude, but I had not entertained another person, man or woman, for several months, let alone at the shop, my inner sanctum. He took another step, and then was right in front of me.

"I have a… proposition for you, I suppose." He said, suddenly quiet, keenly so. He lifted a hand up to the curve of my jaw and dragged an unloved finger across it. I shivered, imperceptibly leaning towards him. Damn this man. I wouldn't back down from his gaze.

"And?" I asked, breathy. 

"After I woke up today, I felt so," he paused, looking for a good word, "relieved. Like you took a weight off of me. I felt like I could focus again. I've already made progress about how the disease spreads, I think." He suddenly stepped away, feverishly looking through a book. It looked like one Asra had in the shop. He stopped at a page and held it up to me. It showed an illustration of a hoard of blood red beetles swarming over ivory bones. It was a disgusting picture, and a feeling of gluttoniness desire radiated from the image.

"It's these, these beetles. I think they're what's causing this, I'm not sure how, but they started being reported immediately before the Plague started to spread. Approximately three days before." He stopped quickly, looking at me. Waiting for me to understand.

"Three days? But… that's the time it takes for the disease to take root in the body and kill it's host." I said, comprehension dawning on me. He smacked the page excitedly.

"Yes! Exactly what I was thinking!" He rushed forward and kissed me, hard and just once, on the lips. He grasped my face between his hands, looking hard into my eyes.

"They're not normal beetles, I just don't understand how they got here or what the disease is they're causing or even if they're even the ones directly causing it but-" he stopped suddenly, eyes bright and wide and hopeful. "It's progress, Astrid. The first hint of real progress I've made in months, all because of you. I'm going to find a cure."

And I believed him. He looks mildly rested for the first time since I've known him, the shadows under his eyes slightly dulled than before. He's absolutely brimming with energy, no longer the starving, weakened doctor he was when I first walked in. Now he was lively, full of drive and a thirst for more discovery. Flushed pink and eyes brighter than the moon, it was invigorating to see him so full of energy.

"Wait, what did I have to do with this? This is all you-"

"No, you sweet, perfect little thing!" He swooped down, and swung me up in his arms. I yelped and grabbed onto his shoulders, bracing myself. He buried his face into the top of my head, still holding me six inches off the ground. "You gave me reprieve. A night of peace. I don't want to assume," he says, setting me down. Very quickly, he's down on one knee and holding my hand in his. He makes a wide, sweeping, dramatic gesture with the other. "But what I felt last night, I think you also felt? I couldn't ever hope that you, as lovely and kind and humble and-" he continues on for a while.

All the while, I can't help but think what and idiot he's being. Sweet as he is, how could he not tell I liked him back? That I found him attractive? That I enjoyed his company so much I invited him into the shop, my home and inner sanctum. I thought I had made that obvious. I wasn't usually this bold, especially not with someone who could technically be considered my boss-

God he's still complimenting you.

I quickly kneeled in front of him, and he was taken off guard. His dramatically raised hand drooped slightly.

"Julian." I stopped him mid sentence. "If you're asking if I would like to continue this, relationship, or whatever it is, the answer is yes." He stopped all movement, looking too pleasantly surprised to respond. "I find you very attractive, and given your," I glanced up at him and met his eyes, blushing slightly. "Enthusiasm last night, I would be more than willing to continue to engage this. Especially if it helps you focus on the work we came here to do."

His face lit up all at once as though he had been expecting the worst and was internally preparing some tragic monologue about the woes of lost love.

"Oh you sweet little minx" he surged forward again and nearly knocked be back onto my ass. The kisses he had piled upon me nearly drove me into the floor itself, though I admit I hadn't complained about them in the slightest.

 

And so started a strange relationship that varied dramatically depending on the time of day.

In the mornings, I would collect herbs from the shops store room to give to Julian for his mask: dried roses, camphor, myrrh, lavender, and sage. He would greet me each day with a mug of coffee for him and a cup of minty lavender tea for me. We would work, closely, but not inappropriately. I continued to care for the quickly dying, giving them their last meals and holding their hands as they passed. Julian continued to twitter around like an overgrown bird, excitedly collecting any data he could. 

The afternoons were spent with me helping him pour over notes and books, writing down ideas and helping him monitor patient symptoms and disease progression. He would help be brew concoctions, I would help him organize his notes.

In the evenings, when the night nurses came to watch the patients, we would hole back up in his office and just hold each other, me sitting in his lap within a pile of books upon the floor. At the brink of twilight was the time that many of the dying would give their last breaths. It was the hardest on us both. He put on the facade of a cold and calculating scientist looking for answers, but it was at this time of the night that he cried, openly and honestly.

"What if I can't find a cure…" he wept quietly into the top of my head, stroking my dark red hair with his long pale fingers. I sat curled on his lab on the floor, picking absentmindedly at a chip on the desk leg. I lifted my face up at him and looked at him dead on.

"Julian, you're brilliant. And so determined. If anyone is going to find the cure for this, it's going to be you." I wiped away the tears falling out of his eyes, a stormy gray instead of their usual bright silver. He leaned his cheek into my hand, and squeezed his eyes shut again, a pained expression on his delicate face. Tears drifted down the corners of his eyes and dripped slowly off his pointed chin.

He was counting on himself too much. He couldn't do this all alone, but he didn't want to accept any outside help. Even from me, I had thought bitterly.

"Have you written a letter to the palace yet?" I asked quietly, brushing an auburn lock out and away from his face. "You know they're asking around for help, offering resources for anyone with a chance at finding a cure."

"Not yet, I want to be sure of the connection to the beetles, but I can't be the only one who's noticed. I mean, it feels too obvious."

"Sometimes the simplest answer is correct. Don't overthink it, you've got so much on your plate." He opened his eyes at me again and smiled weakly. 

Like the nights before, we went to a tavern on the edge of the city, as far away from the looming figure of the Lazaret we could manage, where they served the terribly addictive salty-bitter drink Julian seemed so fond of. They started to grow on me as well, incredibly potent yet absolutely disgusting.

And like the nights before, we ended up too drunk, stumbling back towards the shop, giggling against each others mouths. The excitement never seemed to wear off. We had been all eager hands and grinning kisses. He had groped at my thighs and i at his. Tonight, we barely made it inside the door before I had pushed him onto the shop floor and straddled his hips.

He had put on a good show the first time we had been together. All firm touches and dominant hands. It had taken one too-hard bite to his shoulder to break the facade completely. He was in his element as a submissive player in our little game. I hadn't been shy of dealing some damage to him, with sinking bites or rough grabbing, and in turn he did the same for me, leaving fingerprint bruises down the lengths of each thigh.

"If you keep- ah - grinding on me like that, darling, we'll never make it to bed." He grinned sloppily up at me, with a slightly mad glaze over his eyes as I pressed his wrists into the floor.

"That's too bad then." I rubbed down on him again, feeling him arch his hips back up into me with a groan. He was already pressing hard against the tightness of his pants, a small damp spot appearing at the seam. 

"Oh have mercy on my poor wretched soul!" He laughed a little breathlessly and threw an arm dramatically over his eyes. After a moment he peaked a gray eye out from under the arm, still smiling crookedly.

"You should think about doing theater, seeing as how you're such a drama queen." I laughed back. I climbed off of him and started to unlaced the front of my shirt. He sat up, so tall even sitting down that he could help shimmy off my trousers. As I went to flip the shirt off over my head, he quickly tucked his hand beneath the hem of my pants and started pawing at me. In a sudden motion he knocked me back over onto the floor with his free hand and climbed over me, keeping the twisted shirt over my eyes.

"You still haven't let me do this yet," he said, still out of breath, but more interested now than playful. Like he was waiting for permission to tease me. He took the hand that wasn't exploring my every dip and peak and undid the back of my breastband, pulling it off completely. His finger circled around me, not leaving but not looking further. Julian was quiet. He was waiting for permission.

I nodded eagerly, excited. He let out a small breath very quickly, like he had sucked in air much too fast. Two long, thin fingers plunged into me at once, taking no time to start pressing my walls. For a few seconds it wasn't entirely enjoyable. The pressing felt exploitative, like he was looking for something I wasn't sure was there.

"Julian what are you looki- ah!" A sudden pressure built in me as he hooked his fingers facing up, pressing against something that felt a hundred times more sensitive than the rest of my walls. He was panting now, audibly excited.

"Found it." He said quickly. There was a rustle of fabric and the sound of something hitting the floor that told me he had pushed his pants around his knees. Before I could ask what on earth he had touched, he started working it again, this time the hooking of his fingers were combined with a firm thrusting. 

It was the strangest pleasant sensation that I had ever experienced. It was intense, a deep electric pressure building between my legs. He was relentless, never giving up any leverage and continuing to fuck me with reverent glee. His breath kept coming faster as mine did, my body twisting under his. At one point my hips twisted so desperately he was almost unseated on me.

"Julian-" I whined, making a high pitched strangled sort of noise I had never made before. His breath was raspy now. With a shaky grasp he untangled one of my hands from the shirt still twisted around my head and directed it to himself. He hesitated, still waiting for permission.

Oh what a dork.

I gripped him firmly in my one free hand and started stroking, a little harder than normal, taking care to twist my wrist as I reached his head. He whined back at me and started working me again, with evermore vigor and enthusiasm, massaging that sensitive spot alongside my walls.

The pressure was building again, too fast and too close already. He was merciless. He stopped thrusting his fingers in me and instead just hooked at that mysterious spot again, pressing his exposed palm against me.

There was the electricity again, building, building-

I grinded down against the open press of his palm and the sickly sweet jab of his fingers inside me and lost myself. It was a quick wave of release, but far more intense and I felt myself contract around his fingers in waves. He made a strangled groan and suddenly a sticky warmth had streaked across my chest in shuttery pulses. I felt him shiver as he rocked himself into my hand.

A few moments passed as we both came down from our highs. Julian slowly removed his fingers from me and untangled the rest of the shirt, pulling it off my head. He was completely flushed, looking more embarrassed now than he had the first time we had done anything. The tips of his ears looked so red they blended in with his hair.

"I'm sorry, love," he said, looking at anything but my eyes. "I didn't mean to finish on you like that, you were just so hot and when you squeezed, I-" he stopped suddenly to look at me. I had dragged a finger through the sticky mess over my chest. I noticed he was watching me. His face didn't show disgust or confusion. It showed interest. Primal, shameful interest that he couldn't seem to look away from.

I lifted my sticky finger up to my mouth, circled my lips with it once, and dragged it down my tongue until it came away clean. Julian suddenly looked as though I had slapped him. His eyes were so dilated I could barely see the thin halo of silver around his pupils. 

"I never thought you'd be this experienced when I wanted to do this." He said, sounding once again strangled.

"What, you don't like it? I thought you were Julian Devorak, experienced lover." I said, crawling back over to him and climbing into his lap. This seemed to snap him out of his surprise. His roguish eyebrow arch and smirk were back.

"Oh darling, I'll show you an experienced lover. You haven't seen anything yet."

"I think I'll hold you to that." I said, pressing my lips firmly against his. He groaned into the kiss, letting me take control easily. He was pliant by now, loose under my fingers as I started to work him up again. He shied away from me, clearly still sensitive from his earlier release.

"Maybe a bath first?" He asked, lips barely brushing the words against mine.

"If you want, but I might be too tired at that point."

"That's fine. We should probably head to bed anyway, it's late, and you need some sleep." He stopped kissing me back and brushed both thumbs under my eye sockets. "You've got shadows under your eyes."

I slid his hands away, not meeting his gaze. I didn't want to admit that it had become harder to sleep since I began working with him. I didn't want him to think I was weak or not cut out for this line of work. He forced my hands away and cradled my face again, forcing me to look at him.

"Hey, I get it," he murmured, looking far too deeply into my eyes. "It's hard. It's probably the hardest job in the city right now. Being with these people, studying these people, before they die. But what we do is important, love, it's so important. We have to find a cure, or at least die trying."

I shivered at the word love, suddenly embarrassed by it. I felt like a schoolgirl with a too-intense crush, knowing full well he wanted nothing more than a casual encounter every now and then. He seemed to have noticed my reaction and dropped my face like I had burned him.

"Look, I'm not good for you. I'm not easy to like, let alone love, and I get that, I really do, we've only been seeing each other a few weeks and-"

"I think I love you." I said quickly. The drink had gotten to me. It made me feel bolder, ready to take chances. And I did think I loved him. As kind and compassionate and completely dorky as he was, I loved him. In all of his misgivings and awkward tendencies, I loved him. He looked hopeful, yet hurt.

"Don't, don't say that if you don't mean it, I couldn't-"

"I mean it. I really mean it, Julian." I looked boldly into his eyes. I wasn't backing down now, too afraid to look away and too scared to see his reaction. He balked, and seemed to go through a lot of emotions all at once. Disbelief, shock, acceptance, and joy, all at once. He kissed me again, more reverant than fervent, and pulled me back to look into my eyes.

"I think I love you too, Astrid. Or whatever it is we're feeling, it's completely," he kissed me again, "totally," another kiss, "mutual."

"Are you sure?" I asked quietly, pulling myself higher into his lap so that I stared down at him. He looked back up at me with bright eyes, glazed by happy tears.

"So completely sure I don't even know what to do with myself." He answered quietly. I kissed him again, long and hard this time, and we once again found ourselves in bed, lulling each other into a deep, comfortable sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No smut in this one sorry

"Did you send the letter?" I asked, moving around Julian to gather the herbs I needed that day. He sat, disheveled in his clothes from last night, at my reading table. Bite marks were still visible along the lines of his collarbone. 

"I did." He said. He had spent the night again, curled around me like a silent protector from the nightmares that plagued me when I was alone. He thumbed lazily with my deck of tarot cards, feeling along their fraying edges. I felt a flutter of the magic from them connect me back to him through his touch on the cards.

"Hey, give me another reading. I want to see if my fortune has changed." He asked cheekily, wagging his arched brows at me. I rolled my eyes and finished tying my herbs into a roll of burlap. I tucked them in my satchel and walked back into the reading room. I wrapped my shawl around my shoulders. It brought me a strange sense of comfort, a trinket of my past life telling fortunes on the streets of the city.

"If you so desire, three cards like last time?" He nodded amicably and I sighed, taking my place across from him. I fingered the cheap golden threads of my constellation strewn shawl as he shuffled the deck. I took it from him quietly when he had finished and held the cards between my palms. They spoke to me again, quieter than before, but still powerfully potent in their magic. I drew three cards. As if knowing I was going to command it, he organized them into a small triangle, shifting their positions around until he seemed satisfied.

I flipped over his past card. 

"The Hermit, reversed. You were lonely and isolated, and felt like you were on your own in your ventures. You struggled with this for a while." This was an obvious one, being a result of his work in combination with being so far away from his sister. He seemed a little distracted as he played absentmindedly with the rest of my desk from across the table.

I flipped his present card.

"Death, upright. You're in a new cycle, a new beginning. A friend or lover has found their way into your cycle of negativity and broken it. You feel hope again in this change, and it is undoubtedly a good one." He looked startled at the Death card for a moment, but relaxed when I explained its meaning. Most people associated the Death card with its literal interpretation, but those of us skilled in the Arcana knew it simply meant a breaking or beginning of a new cycle. I smirked at his reaction.

"Trust me, Death is a good card. There are a couple bad ones that have negative connotations in certain positions, but honestly-"

Finally I flipped his future card. I stopped, staring at it, a weight dropping into the pit of my gut. Speak of the devil.

"The Lightning Struck Tower, upright. A sudden upheaval will change everything… disaster is imminent. Someone will… be torn away from you… this is a really bad omen." I finished quietly. The cards didn't lie. They told me the hard truth. I looked back up to Julian and he seemed shaken by my explanation, though he tried to play it off as a joke.

"What, Death is the good card in this case, while some stupid tower is bad?"

"Death merely means change, a break in cycles. The Lightning Struck Tower, however," I said quietly, looking at it like a death omen, "is pretty much the worst card you can draw, especially in the future position. It symbolizes disaster and a massive negative change. It doesn't really have a good connotation, for the most part. It's means a sudden, disastrous event will come forth and change everything for the worse." The cards spoke through me as I held them.

He shook his head, trying to play it off, but I could tell he is was unsettled by this as I was. This wasn't some parlor trick and he knew it.

"Nonsense. Alright love, let's get to the clinic, we have things to do, data to collect." He pushed himself away from the table, from the cards, from me, and stood up, stretching his limbs until they cracked.

We quietly changed into our clinic clothes, both of us stepping out into the foggy morning with our masks tucked under our arms. Julian helped me tie my long hair into a knot and gently wrapped my shawl around my shoulder. I, in turn, helped him fasten his coat around his shoulders, and slipped his fingers a quick kiss each as I pulled on his gloves. He looked at me with a startling fondness that I wasn't entirely uncomfortable with. It made heat blossom fiercely in my chest.

We walked, arm in arm, towards the clinic. I was still rattled by the reading. I hadn't expected such a warning. Julian, ever the skeptic, continued to push it off throughout the day. We spent the afternoon going over notes in his study, pinning data and diagrams to a corkboard behind his desk. Everything pointed back to the beetles.

"Well, the data supports it." He said, running his fingers through his hair. He looked exhausted. Clearly the night of roughhousing at the shop hadn't been enough to tame his insomnia this time. 

"That," I said, pinning a final data point on a sheet of paper to the board, "it does." All together, the information looked hectic, like it was drawn together by a madman. But I had known differently, Julian knew what he was doing. He knew exactly how everything connected together, all tying back to the beetles, and, coincidentally, the palace.

A knock came to the door suddenly. The kindly faced nurse who had welcomed me my first day at the clinic poked her head through the crack, smiling sweetly at us. She looked a little under the weather today, skin slightly wallow and light lines a little deeper than usual.

"Doctor Jules?" She asked, stepping in once she gave the room a quick scan. "I've got a letter for you, dear. From the palace itself." She hustled quickly over, handing the piece of folded parchment to me, and in turn I held it out to Julinan. He leapt to his feet and grabbed it at once, tearing away the golden-red seal at the envelope and pulling the letter out.

"Ah, Carolina, thank you. I didn't think they'd respond this quickly." The nurse bobbed her head kindly and slipped back out the door. Julian spun on his heels and sank into his chair. He scanned the letter over, once, twice, and finally a third time. He sighed and slid it over to me. I took it from his grasp. Thin, cursive handwriting scrawled elegantly over the expensive looking parchment. The ink was lavender and saffron scented, bringing to mind an expensive perfume.

Doctor Devorak:

The Count and I have heard great tales of your medical abilities, especially given the connection you already have with my husband. After saving him from the wound he sustained so long ago, we would be honored to accept you into our research program at the palace, led by Doctor Valdemar. Please send us your reply at once, and we will make accommodations for you. Spare no expense in your resource needs.

Sincerely,

Countess Nadia.

"Wow," I said thickly, tossing the paper onto the desk. "A position at the palace in their private study areas. That's… that's a huge honor." I said. He looked off into the distance, and I could tell his mind was racing a million miles an hour. He reached a hand out absentmindedly at me. I took it and he pulled me into his lap from around the desk.

"You should go." I murmured, stroking the side of his face. He finally glanced up at me, looking conflicted. His eyes darted back and forth across my face, looking for answers where they didn't exist.

"Should I?" He asked, tucking a loose strand of my hair back into its knotted bun. I knew what he was thinking, but it wasn't worth it. I wouldn't let him make an excuse not to go, for me or for anything else.

"Yes," I said quietly back. "They have more resources than we do here. You'll be more effective if you can study with them, with this Doctor Valdemar person-"

"But what about you?" He asked. He looked at me with puppy dog eyes, looking for answers and yet being afraid of them. I steeled myself for my response, hoping my confidence would pass into him where we touched.

"Leave me. You won't be gone long. I'll wait for you here. I'll continue on with the patients. The nurses like me, they respect me, and I've learned so much under your study these past weeks."

It didn't seem to be the answer he wanted, but I knew it was the answer he needed. He leaned his head down into my shoulder and sighed deeply.

"I won't be able to see you for some time." He said, tracing some pattern up the small of my back.

"You'll write." I reply sagely. I grip his shoulder tighter. "And you've still got a day or two before they even make arrangements for you. We'll find time for each other."

He nodded against my skin, the sharp line of his nose pressing into the curve of my neck.

"A few days." He responded, repeating it to himself like a reminder.

"A few days." I answered back, holding him tightly and wishing he would never leave.

 

That night had been the worst one yet. At the brink of dusk, a dozen children shambled into the clinic, led by a woman covered head to toe in fragrant linen covers. They had been guided to cots, some of them blind with the blood leaking out of their eyes. Julian and I had hustled around, this time too concerned with their frail bodies than collecting any data on them.

"Poor things, came from an orphanage down the street." Carolina, the kind, motherly nurse said to me as we gazed at them from the makeshift nurses station. She soaked several cotton rags in an herbal remedy I had made earlier. She gave a shallow, delicate cough.

"Orphanage?" I asked, already afraid of the answer I knew I'd be given.

"Yes, many of them popped up since the Plague started. Too many children with dead parents and no family left to take them. I suppose it was only a matter of time until one of them got sick," she said, laying the cooling rags out onto a silver tray. "And as I'm sure you know, once one person gets sick-"

"The rest of them fall soon enough." I finished. Julian fluttered over the children, grabbing their hands and petting their hair. He looked stricken, I could see the fog welling up in the goggles of his mask, the warm tears streaming down his face. I joined his side, encouraging the weakest ones to drink herbal potions and clutch onto enchanted crystals. It brought them comfort, I could tell, but nothing much else.

It was the first time we worked together through the night, watching as, one by one, the children succumbed to the disease. It was the worst thing I had ever seen. Blood everywhere, leaking from their bright red eyes, their mouths, their noses. They would shudder, convulse, and then with a final sob, stop moving all together. Julians hands seemed to shake the entire time.

In the morning, when the carts came, Julian had a hard time parting with the bodies. One of the youngest ones, a girl no older than six or seven, had reached out a hand to him and the cart master loaded her onto the back, surrounded by the bodies of her friends. She was wrapped in a coarse wool blanket, already stained with old blood.

"I don't want to go, please don't make me-" she cried feebly between coughs and convulsions. Julian had been frozen to the spot. He reached out a hand and held hers so tightly I thought he might hurt her. He only let go when the cart started to pull away towards the docks. She cried the entire ride down the street, until she suddenly coughed violently and became very still.

I looked back up to Julian. He hadn't spent much time doing this work, the manual labor of loading the bodies on. This had been different. He had felt, I knew, like he needed to be there, like he didn't have any other option. He had shaken beneath his clothes like a sapling caught in a gale. He looked as though he were going to vomit.

"I can't do this right now." He said suddenly, turning away.

Julian had rushed down the street, towards the inner ring of the city. I followed him, pulling my mask off, struggling to keep up with his long strides. We had reached the door of my shop quicker than normal. He didn't even need to fumble for the lock, he grabbed the key out of my pocket and shoved his way through the door. I followed him silently, like a small shadow, not wanting to get too close yet.

"Julian-"

"Please, not now." He said coldly, sitting at the counter and folding over himself. I stared at him for a moment. Well, if he wasn't going to take care of himself, I would.

I stepped over and undid the back of his mask. He didn't protest. I unbundled his coat from around his shoulders and slid it onto a chair beside him. I forced him upright, pulling off his gloves and ridding him of his shirt. A numbness had taken over me from the moment the children had come into the clinic. It was a quickly adapted survival mechanism, one that protected my already delicate heart. Julian, it seemed, but on more of a show than I expected.

Julian was pliant as I pulled off the rest of his clothes his boots, his socks, his pants. He was unprotesting as I led him up the stairs and into my loft. I tucked him into my bed and brushed the hair out from his eyes. He needed to cry, I could see the tears glazing over his pupils already. I kissed his forehead and down his face slowly. 

"Let me make you some tea." I murmured and slid off the bed. I made my way downstairs and over to the kettle. I lit the wood burning stove with a flick of my wrist and prepared two tea cups. Once the water was ready, I grabbed a simple combination of relaxation herbs from the shop storeroom: rosehips, lavender, camomile, and mallowroot. I let the concoction soak for a minute before heading up the stairs.

Julian was exactly where I had left him, wrapped in my blankets and looking heartbroken. I handed him a cup and demanded he drink. He did, deeply, probably scalding his tongue and throat on the way down. After a long moment he looked at me hard.

"I'm going to go, Astrid. Tomorrow. To the palace." He said, determined, like he was making some grand sacrifice for the greater good of humanity. Who knew, maybe for him it was. I still hadn't been sure of his attachment to me. He said he loved me back, but being alive for the twenty years I had taught me not to completely trust a man. I did want to trust him, though. For some reason he was different. 

"I know you are, love." I said, running my hand through his hair. He closed his eyes at my touch and leaned into my hand, seemingly desperate for affection. "You want to do the right thing."

He opened his eyes at that phrase and looked almost offended.

"I have to, Astrid. I have to. Those kids… they never… no one should ever…" He trailed off. I sat my half empty tea cup down and looked at him hard. He wasn't done. "If I can do anything, I have to. I can't let this continue. The city will be wiped away if someone doesn't find a cure."

"I believe in you, Julian Devorak. You're going to find out how to fix this. I will take care of the clinic while you are gone, so please don't worry about it, or me. I know you're going to do this right."

He looked at me, like he was going to say something, something profound, and for a moment I was reminded of the moment when Asra had left, words lingering just behind his lips. But Julian was not Asra. He had no shame in his words, no problems expressing his feelings like my master had.

"I'm coming back for you, Astrid. You're smart, resourceful, and you've helped me so much. I want you to write to me, every day, whether it's just a report or a love note or whatever-" he said, grasping my hands quickly, looking at me intensely. "Just please, write to me. That's all I ask."

After a moment, I nodded at him. He sighed, looking a little more relieved. His eyes looked sunken in, like he had suddenly aged many years over the last twenty-four hours. I stood up to put away the empty tea cups when he reached out and grabbed my wrist.

"Please stay with me." He said, so quietly I almost couldn't hear him. But I had heard him, and I understood what he needed. I unlaced the front of my dress, removed my corset and breastband underneath, and crawled into the bed with him. As usual, it was a tight squeeze, but somehow with him it was comfortable. He curled into me tightly, needing to touch any part of my body that he could to get some sort of satiation. He dug his face into the crook of my shoulder again and began to cry, honest and ugly and heartbreakingly sad.

I held him through the late afternoon and night, and he seemed to have cried every last drop of water in his body by the time he settled off into sleep beside me. I laid awake, considering the day, the children, and the cards. The Lightning Struck Tower.

The orphans were certainly not disastrous enough to consist of the omen that I had communicated. That would be something more personal, something that meant a great deal to him. I wasn't sure what it could be, a family member or a pet or something. 

Maybe it was the clinic? He did put a great deal of care into the place, funding it mostly out of his own coin purse.

Or his sister, perhaps? I had never met her but he had told me a great deal about his Pasha, though she did still live in his hometown and likely wouldn't be the focus of the omen. 

A bitter thought raced across my mind. I would likely never meet Pasha, even if we found a cure. Julian would most likely leave me, even if we did both manage to survive the Plague, because who would want to be reminded everyday of the horrors we had seen?

It was no use thinking like that. Julian was snoring softly against my neck, shifted every now and then in his sleep like he was always checking that I was there. Every time this happened I grabbed him tighter, wishing away whatever nightmares he was having and wanting nothing more than for him to sleep peacefully. I knew it was a fool's errand, of course, because no matter what I seemed to do for him it was never enough.

With him, nothing was ever enough, or too much, and that just made the ache in my heartstrings even worse.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It gets sad after here, fellas. Also I had to bring up that Asra always held a flame for the MC I'm sorry it gets sad with him too. Not gonna post the newest chapters until I've finished Asra and Nadias routes so I can make sure I get it as accurate as possible.

"Astrid-" Julian whined, and panted hard against my ear.

"Be quiet or we'll get caught."

His back was pressed against the bark of a large tree, it's branches swayed gently in the cool breeze of the night. Fall was almost over, and the first wave of winter frost would be here soon. The topiary bushes blocking the tree from view were starting to brown from the cooler weather that had been rolling slowly through the city.

"Maybe I want to get caught." Julian grabbed the roots of my hair, threading his fingers through the knots of my braid. He tried to drag my lips up to his, but he stopped with a hiss when I pinched hard at the exposed skin of his thigh.

"I'm in charge here right now, and I'm saying that we don't get caught." I firmly removed the hand from my hair and guided it down to the lacing of my top. Julian got the message and eagerly started unlacing the ties around my neck and shoulder.

"Just hike your skirt up and we can make this quick." He said excitedly and moved his hands down to my skirt, trying to pull the black floor length fabric up over my thighs. He once again was pinched on the thigh for this.

"I haven't seen you in almost two weeks, so," I said, untying the ribbon that was keeping my hair braided, "I am going to take my time with you." He looked apprehensively at the ribbon in my hand, but I could see the gleam of interest sparking in his eyes. After a moment he held out his hands to me, wrists together, but I shook my head. 

"No, you can't be quiet tonight without some help." I leaned up on the very tips of my toes, and he thankfully lowered his head down to meet me. I tucked the ribbon around his head, tying the knot on it directly over his mouth and securing it with a bow. He looked at me rakishly, as though saying 'how cheeky of you' without words. 

I had been teasing him since we met by the fountain in the palace garden. A gentle brush of my hand on his hips, a subtly bite of my lip, and a kiss that lingered far too long to be just sweet was all I needed to make him melt. He was too easy, but too delicious not to indulge in while I had the chance. 

Julians pants were already down around his knees, cock already hard. His hair, already mused from our heated kissing, was getting stuck in the knotted bark of the tree. Pupils blown so wide his irises looked like the silver halo of a dark moon, he gazed at me hungrily. He looked gorgeous, debauched, and I felt a surge of affection for how want my he looked at me, how desperately he held out his hands to me, and how gently he pulled my skirt down around my hips. 

I pressed down on his shoulders until he was seated crookedly on the ground, legs folded up into a cradle. I lifted up my underskirt and settled myself onto his lab, feeling around with my hand until I guided him into me. He let out a muffled sigh and shifted his legs so that I would have an easier time moving. Once my legs adjusted and my thighs no longer betrayed my excitement by trembling, I started to rock and raise myself up against him.

Julian threw his head back against the tree and his hands scrambled until they found the curve of my ass, helping move me back and forth, up and down. I felt choked up for some reason. The feel of him in me and the smell of coffee and ink and leather on his skin made my head swim. I couldn't focus on keeping a rhythm, but he didn't seem to care. He looked just as desperate as I felt, his groans and pants mostly silenced against the black ribbon tied around his mouth.

His hands guided me into a faster pace, and I was more angling my hips back and forward further to feel him hit the deepest point in my possible than actually riding him. It was slightly chaotic and messy. He suddenly removed his hands from under me and I faltered trying to keep the rhythm going. He untied the knot around his mouth and threw the ribbon aside.

"Astrid I need to say something before I get too close-"

"Julian I need to focus because I'm already almost there-"

"No this is important!"

"Keep helping me move and you can talk, just please, I don't want to stop-" he complied and grabbed harder at my thighs now, helping my rock faster and harder against him. I could feel the electricity thrumming through us where our hips joined, and I could feel it literally tingling at my fingertips. 

"I need to say that I love you, I'm so serious about it, more serious about it than, God, I think anything-" I was whining, and he groaned loudly as I squeezed around him and continued rocking.

"I want a life with you, if we make it- God thats," he gripped my thighs so hard it would leave bruises, "really distracting-"

He moved a hand away from supporting my thighs and threaded it into my hair, squeezing gently at the roots. He dug his face into my neck and I could feel his muscles tightening beneath my legs.

"Astrid, stop I'm too close, and I need to say this-"

"Just say it then, because I'm close too and I-" I couldn't think anymore, every nerve in my body was overstimulated and I felt very close to a very high ledge.

"I want to marry you after all this is over, if you'll have me, I know I'm not the best person, but I want a life with you, a real one, not one dominated by death and disease and-"

"Shut up for a second, I'm-" and I lifted up and slammed down on him, hard, and I felt him tense and snap under me, and then I too felt myself falling over that very high ledge as I trembled and contracted around him. Every inch of my skin was singing pleasantly, and the afterglow of it came very slowly and washed over me in a warm rush. I felt him twitching in me, spending himself, and heard his groan reverberate through the air.

It took a few moments for me to come back to myself, collapsed against the wall of Julians chest. He was panting softly and holding me tightly in his arms as he traced a finger over the tattoos on my shoulders. 

"Did you ask me to marry you?" I said, sounding a little punch drunk, against his skin. His hand faltered.

"Uh. Yeah, sorry, I was in the moment and I-"

"Yes, I'll marry you."

He pulled me back, surprised.

"What?" He looked shocked, pleasantly though, and a smile was beginning to tug at the corners if his narrow mouth. 

"I said, I'll marry you. If we both survive long enough to see a cure, I, Astrid, Apprentice of Asra the Magician, will marry you, Doctor Julian Devorak."

He started to, incredibly, wiggle very slightly underneath me, like a very excited kitten about to spring on a toy.

"So you're saying, if I find a cure for the plague-"

"If anyone finds a cure for the plague-" I corrected.

"But you said if anyone could do it, it would be me, so by extension, if I find a cure for the plague, you'll marry me." He clarified quickly, sitting up further against the tall tree. After a moment of consideration, I nodded. His hiding grin split open over his face, and in the half shadow under the tree, he looked nearly demented with happiness, the sharp angles of his face thrown into a stark contrast.

"Oh you wonderful, you fantastic-"

A suddenly thump of approaching footsteps interrupted him, and instinctively he slid down onto the ground and covered me with his discarded jacket. I could hear the jangling of light armor and the clink of spear handles brushing the ground. Guards.

"Did you hear something?" One of them asked, walking past the bushes we were hiding in.

"Probably just the Count, fondling some maid somewhere in the garden. You know how he gets." The other one said. 

"Alright, well let's keep patrolling around the gates then. If he's out here somewhere I don't want to know."

They moved away, the steady footfalls fading against the frost covered grass. 

Julian didn't move for a few moments, and I took the time to enjoy the warmth of his jacket. It smelled like smoke and leather, and surprisingly a new scent had been added to the mix. The metallic tang of blood was hiding beneath the faint mask of cologne that hung to the fabric. I sat up again and slid off of him, the sudden coolness between my thighs making me shiver. I pulled my skirt back on and relaced my shirt as Julian tucked himself back into his pants.

"So what do you guys even do down there." I asked him. He hadn't told me much in his letters, preferring to keep the details vague. Julian tensed visibly as he buttoned up his shirt. 

"Nothing I'm entirely proud of." He said quietly. He looked ashamed of himself for some reason. I reached out a hand and brushed a curly lock of hair out of his face. He looked up at me suddenly, and I could tell I had pulled him out of some dark memory he had no intention of sharing. 

"Whatever you're doing, Julian, you're doing it to help people in the future. Don't be ashamed of making progress." I thought this would comfort him, but instead he pulled away from me slightly, looking uncomfortable. 

"I've done some terrible things, Astrid." He murmured, looking at his hands with an intense hatred.

"You don't have to protect me from this, Julian. You can tell me and I can help." I said, taking his hands and holding them in my own. I pressed them against my chest so he could feel my heartbeat. He looked hopeful for a second, like he wanted to say something, like he needed to tell me something important. But then the look of disgust tool over his features again, and he pulled away entirely. 

"I can't, Astrid. You'll never look at me the same. And I want to keep you for as long as I can. Even if I don't deserve it." He stood up and helped me to my feet. I still had his jacket around my shoulders. I went to take it off but he stopped me.

"Keep it for now. It's cold and you need to get home." He said, reaching down to fasten the top few buttons. His hand traced up my neck and along my jaw. He lifted my head up. His eyes were shadowed in the darkness from the trees shade, his lashes casting shadows that looked like spider legs along his cheekbones. He kissed me once, tenderly. 

"Get home safely, my darling. I'll see you soon."

And with that, he slipped into the darkness and out of sight.

 

The trip back to the shop was long, and I arrived just in time to see the edges of the horizon brightening slightly. I went to unlock the door, but with a shock I realized it was already undone. My protective enchantments were gone as well.

I snapped my fingers together quickly, forming a ball of electricity in my hand, ready to unleash them on whoever had dared to break into my shop. I edged the door open and stepped through.

A sudden, slippery weight dropped onto my shoulders.

"Faust!" I gasped as the white snake greeted me with a flickering tongue to my cheek. She slunk off my shoulders, down my arm and onto the shop counter. She slithered over a black hat with a massive multicolored feather.

"And where have you been all night?" Asked a cool, teasing voice from the base of the stairs. I spun around.

"Asra!" I cried, rushing forward to hug him hard around the middle. He laughed jovially and hugged me back. He looked tanner than usual, and the smell of sea salt and sweat hung heavy on skin.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, tugging off Julians jacket and laying it across the counter. Faust blipped merrily as she wound her way onto Asra's shoulders.

"I got a letter from the Countess, actually." He said, handing me a cup of tea I hadn't even noticed he was holding. "I guess she requested I help find a cure for the Plague." He looked sheepish suddenly. "And I felt that I had to come back. I regret leaving you here."

My heart swelled. He was looking at me sheepishly, and I never knew he could be anything but enigmatic.

"Well I missed you." I said quietly, hugging him again. 

We chatted over tea about his adventures in Prakra for the few weeks he had been gone. He told me about the fortunes he told, including to members of the Prakran royal family. He told stories of adventure, riches, even an encounter with a fleet of Nevivonian pirates, with whom he had actually got along quite well with. 

After the sun had risen past the horizon, and had both had too much tea, Asra sighed and leaned back into his chair at the reading table. 

"So, Astrid. You know by now I haven't forgotten to ask where you had been to all night." His lavender eyes twinkled smartly. I flushed slightly and ran a finger around the edge of the tea cup.

"Out, you know. With friends."

"You have no friends, and you've always been a terrible liar. Got you into a lot of trouble when you were younger." He said wisely, patiently waiting for the real answer. I sighed. He wasn't going to give up so easily.

"I was with Doctor Devorak, discussing the work he's been doing since aiding the palace." I replied. It wasn't a total lie, but it was definitely far from the whole truth.

"Ah, discussing medicine I see." Asra said slyly, looking pointedly at ruffled state of my clothes and the fading bite marks on my exposed shoulders. 

"And, other things, I admit." I knew I couldn't hide anything from him. He laughed a little dryly, like he was hurt but trying to hide it. I almost didn't catch the tone. 

"You don't need to hide that from me, Astrid. You're an adult, and can make your own choices. Dating your boss, however," again, he sounded faintly bitter, "I don't always recommend."

I stared at him. He looked a little peeved. True, we had never openly discussed my intimacies with either men or women, but he couldn't have thought I'd be alone forever. I had needs, as anyone else did.

He sighed and stood.

"Well, you should get some sleep. I've been hearing a lot about that clinic you're helping out at, seems like a lot of work. You'll need your rest." He held a hand out to me, waiting. I nodded, realizing how heavy my limbs were with the exhaustion of the night, and took his hand. We went upstairs and he helped me into bed.

"Just a quick nap," I said, stretching against the sheets and digging my face into the pillow. Asra laid down next to me. We hadn't slept like this in a while, but it was comforting.

"Just a quick nap." He agreed, and I drifted off into sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alright, perspective change in this one. Won't be the last one, but next one will be in the MC's perspective. I'm nearing the end here, also sorry this chapter is a bit shorter than the others.

"Ah, you must be Doctor Devorak." 

The man at the desk stood quickly, clumsily knocking over a pile of books like he was surprised by the sudden introduction. Asra smirked. So this was Astrid's lover. He felt a bitter resentment for the man already. He was taller than Asra was, by nearly six inches. He's handsome, Asra thought reluctantly. All sharp angles and deep set eyes and thin lips that stretched over perfect, though slightly sharp, teeth.

Still, the man smiled rakishly, holding out a hand and looking all sorts of polite. He wore the white, high collared outfit of a research doctor, only missing the arm length gloves and white mask.

"Please, call me Julian. Or Doctor Jules. Or even rogueishly attractive medicine man, I'm not entirely picky about it" He said grinning. Asra shook his hand and looked around the room. It was a lavish library, integrated with part of the garden outside. Vines snaked through where the windows opened, and a large balcony was directly below. Books towered on shelves that reached the ceiling. Asra already felt that some of these tomes held magical properties, stuff that he could use to help find a cure. 

"Asra." He responded shortly. The man, Julian, blinked quickly, a dawning realization taking over his features and breaking his character.

"You're Astrid's teacher!" He said, sounding excited, yet surprised. He looked, quite honestly, like a puppy who had just heard the word 'treat'. 

"I am. I guess she's already left an impression on you then." Asra responded. He crossed his arms a little defensively, but Julian seemed to take the gesture as an indication to talk more.

"Yes, she's an excellent apprentice. Already running my clinic while I'm here. Very smart, very resourceful, and the tonics she brews are something else." Asra seemed to glow a little bit at that, despite his dislike of Julian. He knew it wasn't a direct compliment to him, but still he felt as though he could take some credit for her progress. She was his apprentice first, he reminded himself, no matter who she worked for now.

"She is! Quite gifted magically. She's quite taken with you as well." Asra relished in the shameful blush that took over Julians face. He wasn't a petty person by nature, but he did enjoy pushing Julian off his groove.

"So she told you." He looked very pleased with himself, like he had won some great prize that he was excited to stick on a shelf. Asra resented the look of deep affection that glazed Julians eyes as he looked down at the floor bashfully. 

"She did. But that's neither here nor there. I talked with Countess Nadia and she said I'd be working here in the library." Asra settled himself onto a couch, tucking in around the great cushions piled onto it. With a lazy flick of his finger, a great gold and black book zoomed off the shelf and into his outstretched hand. He thumbed through it lazily as Julian stared, bewildered. Asra smirked to himself. Yes, he did very much enjoy throwing this man off his game. 

"Wow, uh, sorry, yes. You'll be mostly working here, in the library, going through books and researching any other instance of this disease. I'm mostly in the dungeons doing the-" Julian looked queasy and gestured to the side of the wall, indicating some hidden passage Asra felt but could not see.

"-practical work." Julian finished the sentence, looking awkward as Asra continued to glance over the tome and not pay him much attention at all. 

"Very well then, better get started." Asra hummed and leaned back farther into the couch. Julian stood awkwardly for a moment before sitting back at his desk, and he quickly began scribbling with awful fervor into a notebook. The sound was grating, and Julian kept mumbling feverishly to himself, shooting out ideas that he quickly shot down himself.

Asra sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. This was going to be a long day. 

 

Asra had left Astrid that morning, curled up in her bed, sleeping much deeper than he expected. He had brushed the exceedingly long red strands of hair out to her face and tucked the blankets back around her so her bare, tattoo covered torso wouldn't get cold.

"Stay here, Faust," Asra had said, watching the snake weave her way through herb jars behind the counter. "I need you to watch Astrid for me today." Faust blipped her compliance to him, snaking her way up the stairs and to the loft where the beds were.

Now, as Asra laid alone in his bed, the palace exceedingly quiet, he missed the comfort of the shop. The smell of the herbs hanging from the ceiling, the warmth of a cup of tea in his hands, the image of Astrid scribbling away in her Book of Shadows behind the counter. It made him lonely, and kept him from falling asleep.

He sat up slowly and ran a hand through his hair. He needed to take a walk, he wasn't getting any sleep tonight. Maybe he could work in the library, keep going over books, taking notes. Now that it was late maybe Julian would finally be gone. He had sat in the library, muttering to himself, for hours until he got called down to the dungeons to help "bring the samples in from the docks", whatever that meant. 

Asra slipped on a loose pair of pants and a flared vest, opting for slippers to tread more quietly through the palace halls. He walked down towards the library, pulling out the keys he had picked off the handmaids waist earlier. She hadn't noticed, of course, after living on the streets long enough as a child, Asra knew his way around someone else's pockets.

He unlocked the library door and slipped through. To his frustration, he saw Julians vivid auburn hair and tall form. Julian snored. He was asleep, then. Asra padded quiet over, looking over his desk. A letter was laying open, dated from earlier today, on the desk, clearly the last thing Julian had been reading before he fell asleep. 

The first page was a detailed report on a few patients, test results, tonic solutions, etcetera. It was from Astrid, and she signed her name on the bottom corner with a small star over the 'I'. Asra reached over and flipped it to the second page. He flushed. It was a love letter. It was more carefully written than the report. Astrid had signed the bottom with 'Forever yours'.

Asra scowled to himself and dropped the letter. He couldn't do anything by dwelling on it, so he grabbed an armful of books and pushed a window open, slipping out the door onto the balcony below. He climbed down and settled himself beneath a large tree with knotted branches that spread out like long pairs of legs. He leaned against the gnarled bark and propped a book open, reading it in the dim light cast from the library windows above.

 

The days passed quickly at the palace. Asra alternated between researching in the library during the mornings, and traveling into town to gather supplies during the evenings. The nights were spent struggling to sleep, some hidden anxiety keeping him awake. Strange dreams haunted him. In his nightmares, the screams he heard from the basement where Julian worked echoed around the entire palace. Pale, bleeding figures staggered through hallways, their screams and moans rattling the halls as they clambered up to where Asra slept.

In the worst nightmare he'd had yet, Astrid had appeared. Her skin was icy white and her bottle-green irises looked pale against the blood red scleras. The blood leaking from the corners of her mouth and eyes matched her long, straggling red hair. She had been dressed in nothing but an open, sheer robe, and he had the visage of someone who had lost a lot of weight in a very short time. The only black tattoos on her chest and shoulders had looked sickeningly out of place on her palid skin. She looked like a ghost, and as she had reached out a hand to him, looking like she wanted help, Asra had screamed and waken himself up. He had sweated through his sheets and his heart hammered wildly in his chest. The image of her still flashed across his vision every time he closed his eyes.

It was, for this very reason, why he neglected to stop at the shop, feeling like he couldn't see Astrid just yet. Not after that dream. Not before knowing what it meant to him.

He had never told her how he felt about her, and until now he had never regretted it. He never felt like he had found the right time, the right moment. And now it was too late, she had found someone else. A handsome doctor, who, Asra was loath to admit, seemed to love her very deeply. 

He stood at a crossroads, both physically and spiritually. He could turn down towards the shop and tell Astrid, right now, how he felt. How he knew they were connected. Or he could walk down towards the Apothecary in the market, where he would definitely find the potion ingredients he was looking for. To do this would be to accept Astrid's choice and move on.

He waited for a moment, and felt into his pocket for his deck of cards. Far more potent in magic than any other he had handled, these told him the truths of the universe. He shuffled them keenly, and pulled a card out. He took a deep breath before turning it over in his hands.

The five of cups. Asra closed his eyes. This was very clear. Astrid would never feel the same way about him now, and instead of lingering on the pain of unrequited love, he would look towards what they already had: a close friendship that would never waver. He could not risk that, even for the hope of something more. Not now that everything around them was changing.

He put the cards back in his pocket and turned down towards the market, away from the shop, unaware that someone was watching him from inside it. Someone who was already very sick. A weakened hand slid down the window slowly, and the figure turned back into the shop, closing the curtains behind them with a sense of mournful finality.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: this gets SUPER graphic when it comes to the body burning in the Lazaret. I've got a pretty dark style so I tried to tone it down, but if you are TRIGGERED BY THE MENTION OF BURNING BODIES, please don't read this one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EXTRA TRIGGER WARNING JUST IN CASE: graphic depictions of corpses and burning bodies.

The vision in the mirror startled me, even now after seeing it for a few days. 

I wasn't sure how it had started, but I knew what had happened the moment I looked in the mirror. My eyes had already begun turning red around the irises. The skin beneath them starting to sink in a little. This was the Lightning Struck Tower. This was the omen that had been sent. I knew it was going to be bad, but I had never expected to pull my own death card out of that deck.

I stared at my own reflection in the panes of glass as I watched Asra turn down the street, away from the shop. His white haired figure disappeared around the corner, and I was glad that he hadn't tried to enter. I wouldn't have let him in. Not now that I knew I was sick.

The convulsions had already started, and it was with great difficulty that I walked across the shop floor to continue my work.

I hadn't gone back to the clinic since the morning Asra had came home. I couldn't risk infecting the nurses. And I knew, with a bitter sense of security in my knowledge, that even if I had returned, they would have forced me out the door and into a death cart almost immediately. 

But I still had work to do. A lot of work. I had to make progress on a cure, and what better test subject to have than myself. I threw everything I could at this disease, every potion I could brew, every spell I could cast, every enchanted crystal I could hang on my body.

Nothing worked. I had been weakening for days. Food wasn't staying down, neither were fluids. Everything came back up. Soon, I knew from my time at the clinic, my eyes would start to bleed. Then my mouth, and my nose, until finally every last drop of blood left in my body would fill my lungs and I would suffocate to death. 

I still had one thing left to do. I had kept Faust locked up. I knew animals couldn't contract the disease, that was well documented already, but I couldn't let her out to go warn Asra. He would have come running in to help the second he knew, and Julian would have been right alongside him. 

That would have killed me right there. To see Julian in pain. Knowing that every promise I had intended to keep was going to be thrown out the window with the rest of the dead in the morning. I had to put the last of my energy into making sure that he would never remember those promises, those stolen nights in each others company. 

My hands shook violently as I grabbed herbs from behind the counter. I dropped a jar of mandrake root and it shattered on the floor, the smelly brown roots scattering under the counter. It felt like everything around me was falling apart. I hadn't cleaned, the kitchen was a mess. This hadn't been the first jar of ingredients I dropped, but for some reason I felt like it would be the last.

I picked up a single strand of the dried root off the floor and shuffled into the kitchen, smacking against the walls as my legs started to give out on me. I couldn't even muster anymore magic to light the cauldron, and instead had to struggle with the flint rocks to light it. I sunk to the floor and let out a few ragged breaths. My breathing felt tight already, and with a start of horror I realized that I could feel a hot stream of blood trickling from my mouth. It tasted coppery and sickly sweet, like it was much to condensed and didn't have enough fluid to thin it out.

Into the cauldron I threw the mandrake root and the other ingredients I had gathered: elderflowers, vervain, catnip, deadly nightshade. I had never made this before, as I had never needed too. But now it was necessary. If I was leaving the world tonight, I wanted to make sure that I wouldn't be missed. Not by someone I had given so much hope. Julian deserved a future, free of disease and painful memories. I could no longer offer him my hand in marriage, but this is what I could give him. 

The potion brewed quickly, and after sitting out on the burning cauldron for a bit, it had dried to a fine, pale silver powder. One wiff of this and he wouldn't even remember my name. He wouldn't have been able to pick my face out of a crowd. 

I stood and carefully tucked the powder into a small cloth pouch. Now was time for the hard part: writing the letter.

I wasn't sure what to put in it. Anything I would have written to him he wouldn't remember by the time the letter opened, anyway, so it seemed pointless. But I had to say something, if not for him, for myself. I needed him to know how I felt, even now. Even if I had made different choices, had left with Asra and saved myself from this disease, I didn't regret a single thing. I was happy to have loved him, to have learned from him. He had made these last few months something worthwhile. I had a practical application for my skills, something I hadn't ever experienced outside of a tarot reading or selling herbs behind the counter. 

But it didn't matter what I wrote down. So instead I wrote just a few lines, a simple message: Julian. I'm gone. Don't look for me. I love you. I'm sorry.

And with that, I folded the packet of Forget-Me powder inside the letter and sealed it closed. It would burst open upon unsealing the letter, and it would be over. I stumbled over to the cage in which Faust was suspended. She looked livid with me, tongue flicking out wildly in anger. 

"I'm sorry Faust. I need you to go to Asra though. Take this," I showed the letter addressed to Julian, "to Doctor Jules. You can tell Asra everything. I'm sorry."

I opened the cage and lifted her out, gently setting her on the floor. She took the letter from me and stared at me, still upset but now more concerned than before. 

"Be back!" She said, her voice echoing inside my head rather than through the room. I nodded at her gently. 

"You'll be back." I confirmed. She slithered off under the door, the letter hanging from her mouth. I sat down at the counter and put my head in my hands. That was that. Now all I had to do was be patient. The Lazaret waited for me.

 

The early stretches of the Sun's long rays had just begun to peak over the horizon. I sat outside the clinic, wrapped tightly in my traveling cloak. The trip here had been strangely freeing.

I had left the shop soon after Faust did. Julians jacket was folded neatly at the base of the stairs, where he had left my dress the first night we had been together. I had no idea if he would ever return for it. My deck of cards sat on the counter next to a cold cup of tea I couldn't bring myself to finish.

I didn't bother locking the door as I left. I hadn't even worried about putting shoes on, though by now the blood had begun leaking from my eyes, and I stumbled down towards the clinic half blinded by red. I had made sure to cover my tattoos and hair with the cloak. I didn't want anyone recognizing me. I didn't enter the clinic, and instead decided to sit where the carts usually arrived to take the bodies away. 

I couldn't see the cart arrive in the morning, but I could hear it. It rattled up the cobblestone street, the wheels hitting every odd stone with a hollow clunk. The door behind me opened and a few nurses struggled out, carrying bodies. I felt a hand touch my shoulder. 

"Poor thing, looks like she died out here in the night." No one bothered to check for my pulse, and for that I was grateful. I couldn't stand breathing too hard right now. Every shallow breath I took made me feel like I was drowning. The blood was already filling my lungs. I'd be dead within a few hours, if I didn't make it to the pits first. God, I hoped I would die before that.

"Where is Astrid, she's usually here to help with this." Asked the driver. A nurse beside me sighed.

"We have no idea. She hasn't shown up for almost a week."

"Well I'll grab this one, if you'll load the smaller ones on." Said the cart driver again. I felt him lift me up off the ground. I had always been small, barely brushing five feet, five inches at my healthiest. But now, after losing so much weight so quickly, I felt smaller than ever. I was tossed onto the cart, and I could tell we hadn't been the drivers first stop of the day. Cold bodies were pressed against me, and though by now I was almost totally blinded by the blood, I could tell that there's were no live ones on here anymore. 

More bodies were loaded in around me, and after a moment I felt the cart stutter up the street again. I took the moment alone to wipe my eyes of the blood and look around. I was surrounded by over a dozen bodies, some bent at odd angles to make more room on the back of the cart. With a choked gasp, I realized I recognized one of them. It was Carolina, the nurse from the clinic.

Her normally ruddy cheeks were now sunken, the pouches beneath her jowls no longer charming, but disturbing. She hadn't been young, I knew, but she looked like she had aged very suddenly. Her normally warm brown eyes were glazed over, the scleras a deep scarlet. Dried blood was caked in her tear ducts and her nose. I felt like I was going to be sick.

I could tell we were getting closer to the docks by the heady scent of salt water filling the air. The sound of waves crashing against piers started to become louder and louder.

"Here's another load," grumbled the cart driver. He was speaking to someone, and he sounded uncomfortable.

"Any live ones?" Asked a strangely high pitched voice. Whoever they were, they sounded uncomfortably at ease with the situation. The driver was clearly about to say no before I let out a wet cough, more blood suddenly sinking deeper into my chest. 

A gloved hand gripped my chin and lifted my face upwards. I could only see the faint outline of their angular face, though their skin seemed to be a faint, sickly green, despite the fact that they sounded totally healthy.

"Hmm… not alive enough to make it worth bringing her back to the dungeons," the person tilted my head back and forth between their fingers, "though I suppose we could use her for a dissection. Much too close to death for a vivisection, but as you know my doctors will happily carve up anything."

"Jesus Christ, Valdemar, can you not talk like that? I don't care what you do to the bodies but that's just disgusting." The driver barked. The hand dropped my face and I sunk back into the cart, coughing weakly.

"Very well. Take them to the Lazaret. Nothing worth keeping here." The person called. The cart driver started unloading the bodies around me. I watched Carolina being taken away and out of sight. Soon it was my turn, and the driver picked me up and walked me over to the deck of a small boat. I was loaded in fairly gently, the driver seemed to be kinder now that he knew I was alive.

"Thank you." I mumbled weakly. He turned away without looking at me, and after a moment he was getting into the boat himself, settled in the very center where two large oars rested over the side.

He started rowing, and soon the sounds of the city waking up became very distant. The smell of acrid smoke became heavier on the air, mixing horribly with the smell of the salty sea. It reminded me of those horrible drinks Julian was so fond of. The sudden thought lurched my heart in my chest, and for a wild moment I considered jumping out of the boat and swimming to shore. I missed Julian so suddenly and so passionately that I had almost allowed myself to tip over the edge towards the water. 

I stopped myself. No, I had to face my end. I wouldn't run from it. Instead I sat, slowly losing more and more of my vision as the sun started to rise over the sea. All at once the silhouette of an island was visible over the blood red sky. Tall, billowing columns of the smoke rose into the air like massive spiraled towers. 

The boat stopped suddenly, hitting a dock on shore. The smell of burning flesh was so powerful now that I puked over the side of the boat, but by now the only thing in my stomach was blood and acid. Multiple pairs of hands began unloading the dead passengers around me. Soon, I too, was pulled from the boat and tossed onto another cart. The cart driver pushed his rowboat back onto the sea and disappeared into the morning mist. He didn't look back, instead keeping his head down to avoid breathing in the fumes of the island. I didn't blame him, it was horrible and pungent. 

By this point I could no longer see at all, the blood leaking from my tear ducts completely obscuring my vision. Everything was painted red. I could barely breathe, and soon the new cart began rattling away up towards the top of the island. The smoke was so heavy now that it settled onto the island itself, suffocating everything it touched. This cart felt less sturdy than the one used in the city, and soon I learned why. Instead of unloading us into the gaping, smoking pit at the top of the island, someone instead just pushed the entire cart in.

I gasped as body after body piled on top of me, closing off my air supply entirely. The cart bounced off the bodies above me and landed on the ground of the pit with a surprisingly wet thud. The ground beneath me felt incredibly hot, and after a horrible moment I realized it wasn't ground at all. It was still burning body parts and acrid, metallic smelling ash. I had landed on someone's severed, smoldering arm, and the bone sticking out of the wrist had punctured my side nearly four inches in, cracking through my ribs and into a blood swollen lung. By now I couldn't even scream, the smoke rising from the bodies beneath me was too thick. Flames licked up my sides and singed away my cloak and part of my hair. It was pain beyond anything else I had ever felt. The suffocation, the burning, the smell was all too much. No one had even cared that I was alive as they threw me in. 

As the people above us began throwing in coals and lit torches, I realized very suddenly that I had gotten my answer to the question I had asked Julian so long ago: what happened to the people who lived long enough to see the pits of the Lazaret?

Dead or alive, all the bodies were treated the same. Breathing or not, they were burned.

And so was I.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alright next chapter is the last chapter, and it'll be in the MC's point of view this time during the present. Also I promise if I feel like I can swing it there will be smut

The air in the library seemed heavier today. Asra rolled his head up from where it hung lazily over the couch armrest as he gazed out of the windows. Maybe the Lazaret was just burning extra bodies today. He closed his eyes and sighed. So many souls leaving this realm, it didn't surprise him that the city felt suffocated under the weight of it.

"What about leeches?" Julian asked from his desk across the room.

"What ABOUT leeches? It's always leeches with you. You've done everything with leeches at this point except make people eat them and it's done nothing." Asra replied scathingly and threw his legs over the back of the couch. Before Julian could even start again, Asra cut him off. "Don't you dare try to feed those people leeches, Jules, it was a joke."

Julian sighed from his side of the room, sinking his head into his hands.

"Yeah, I know, I know. I'm just so on edge today. I haven't heard from Astrid all week and it's making me nervous. Has she talked to you?" Julian sounded very insecure suddenly. Asra lolled his head over to look at him. He pursed his lips, thinking.

"No, she hasn't. I haven't heard from her either. We can swing by the shop today if you want, just to check on her." He said. He was sure that Astrid was fine, but a knot of anxiety began slowly forming in his chest. Julian thought about it and nodded slowly.

"Yeah, yeah that would be great." He said, his shoulders sagging slightly with relief. Asra sighed. He didn't particularly like Julian, but he knew how much he cared for his apprentice, and that alone was enough to make them allies. A mutual caring for a single soul.

Asra sat up and stretched languidly, knocking over a pile of books on the table next to him. He scowled and bent over to pick them back up. As he did so, his deck of cards fell out of his pocket. They scattered on the ground, but one of them was face up, like it had landed like that on purpose.

The Lightning Struck Tower. Asra felt his muscles tighten suddenly, and the knot in his chest grew. He reached out to touch the card. The moment his fingers met the smooth surface of it, a jolt of electricity sparked between them. Visions danced before his eyes: the ghostly figure of Astrid from his dream, a feverish drawing of a blood red eye, and the shadow of an island on a scarlet horizon.

Asra gasped and jumped back from the card. Something was wrong, something was very wrong. He could feel it in his chest, in his heart, where all of his chakras opened up to energy.

"Jules, we have to go now." He said quickly, standing and sliding back into his slippers. Julian looked up, confused.

"Wha-, why- wait a second." Julian had seen the card laying on the ground at Asra's feet. "I know that card." He walked over and bent down to pick it up, his eyebrows furrowing and meeting in the center of his forehead.

"You know the Tower card?" Asra asked quickly. His panic was beginning to rise. Julian nodded, looking both confused and alarmed.

"Yeah, Astrid gave me a reading a few weeks ago and this card was one of them. She looked really shaken up about it." He said. Now he looked just as worried as Asra was. This was all the confirmation Asra needed. He raced to the other side of the room, tripping over a pile of Julians notebooks as he grabbed his traveling cloak.

"We need to go, now!" He shouted. He ran out of the room, Julian hot on his heels. The palace attendants gave them odd looks as the they through the halls. He even spotted Countess Nadia on the balcony giving them a strange look as they ran outside.

"You think Astrid is in trouble?" Julian yelled as Asra sprinted down the stairs leading to the palace, taking two at a time.

"Yes! This is the disaster card, and if she pulled it for you in a reading and it's speaking to me now, it's got to mean something is wrong!" Asra shouted back. He Julian caught up to him quickly, nearly jumping down to every landing on the stairs.

They ran for what felt like miles, winding down the stairs and the grand bridge that lead to the palace until they could see the sprawling city below them.

"Asra!" Called a soft voice in Asra's head as they neared the market. Asra stopped so suddenly that Julian crashed into him, sending them both tumbling down the cobblestone street.

"What the hell-" Julian exclaimed angrily as Asra got to his feet.

"Faust!" Asra yelled, looking around wildly for the snake. He had heard her, but still could not see her. Then he heard Julian yelp and he spun around quickly. Faust was wrapping herself tightly around Julians arm, seeming to tug him down the city streets towards the shop. Julian hopped around erratically, trying to throw the snake off his arm.

"Don't hurt her!" Asra rushed forward and pulled Faust off of Julians arm. She looked frantic, her blue tongue flickering in and out rapidly.

"Faust, what's wrong? Where's Astrid?" He asked. The snake curled tightly around his shoulders and tugged him, now, towards the shop.

"Sick!" Asra's heart sank so quickly he felt like he was going to vomit. Without another look to Julian he ran down the street, passing empty vendor stands and boarded up buildings. He could hear Julian sprinting after him, his superiorly longer legs letting him catch up quickly.

"What's going on with the snake? Why were you talking to it? Does it know where Astrid is?" Julian panted hard and they ran down the street towards the shop. 

"She's my familiar, yes I was talking to her because she understands me, and maybe!" Asra replied shortly. His lungs were burning with the effort to keep running. Every step felt like agony, and the weight in his chest seemed to be pulling him down towards darkness. 

The slowly shifting sign of the shop came into view, it's door slightly ajar. Asra ran inside, Julian following quickly behind.

It was dark inside. Shattered herb jars and potion vials littered the floor. A bucket full of sick was propped in the corner. Hundreds of pages detailing research and experiments littered the wall, some stuck on magically and others simply tacked on. Magic circles were drawn onto the wood floor with chalk, all detailed with different runes meant to inspire profound thought and healing. 

It was cold, unnaturally so. Astrid wasn't here. She had left hours ago. Julian let out a shocked gasp as he looked around the room.

"It definitely did not look like this when I was last here." He said, gazing around and looking at some of the scribbles on the wall, definitely formed by Astrids hand. Asra looked at the base of the stairs and saw a black jacket, folded up neatly on the bottom step. A letter sat on top, with Julians name written across it in narrow red letters.

"Is this yours?" He asked, tugging Julians shirt sleeve to get his attention. Julian spun around and looked at it, realization dawning on his face.

"Yeah, it is. I gave it to Astrid last time we were together. Where is she?" He looked around and up into the loft where the beds were. He was worried, Asra could tell.

"I'll ask Faust." He said and looked down at the snake on his shoulders. She pressed her nose against his and closed her eyes. Visions flashed before Asra's eyes again, this time they were Faust's memories. 

. The visions swam before his eyes like ink drops forming in a watery pool. Faust's perspective was strange, shifting across the floor, over tables and chairs, flipping upside down occasionally. He saw Astrid, crying hysterically on the floor, shaking with grief. Her eyes were already stained red, the shadows underneath them looked like sweeps of faded kohl. A puddle of sick spattered the floor at her feet, and he could see a half eaten loaf of pumpkin bread discarded on the stairs.

The memories shifted. Astrid was feverishly scribbling notes on the floor, tracing out spell circles and labeling runes. Multiple potion and tonic bottles were scattered, half empty across the floor. She was mumbling to herself about ingredients and experiments, listing out results and side effects. Her hands were shaking violently.

Another memory formed. This time Faust seemed to be slithering towards a window, trying to sneak out. Suddenly the perspective shifted, and he saw Astrid's face in close detail. Bloodshot veins spiraled from around her eyes. She looked crazed, feverish.

"I'm sorry Faust, you can't find him. He'll come looking for me." She whispered. Faust was moved into a cage suspended from the ceiling, and Asra could see Astrid settle back onto the floor, beginning again to experiment on herself.

The memories changed again, and Asra could see Astrid brewing something in her cauldron. The smell of roasting mandrake root and vervain filled his nostrils. Faust had watched as Astrid collected some sort of powder into a cloth packet. She sat down, shaking, at the counter. A raven feather quill quivered in her hand. She was writing something down, and after a moment the scratching of the nib on paper stopped. She tucked the packet into the letter and sealed it with hot wax.

Astrid's face was once again close to Faust's perspective. She looked worse than before. Several days must have passed. Her skin looked sunken in, like she had lost a great deal of weight in a short period of time. Blood was leaking slowly out of her nose, dripping onto the sheer robe covering her frail body. Faust was lifted from the cage and set on the floor. Astrid was suddenly upside down as Faust flipped around angrily. 

Faust was suddenly outside, slithering across the cobblestone streets. She had a letter weighted heavily in her mouth, and she shifted underneath an empty vendors cart as she watched the front of the shop. Astrid emerged, a black cloak covering her slight figure. As soon as she turned the corner, Faust was slithering back into the shop. The door had been left ajar, and Faust dropped the letter off onto a jacket laying at the base of the stairs. She flipped around and quickly began making her way out the door again, and Asra could feel his own energy radiating through the memory. Faust was trying to find him.

 

Understanding peaked and crashed in Asra's mind as the visions stopped. He sat down on the floor, nauseous with the knowledge of it all. She was gone. She was gone to somewhere Asra could never follow. He knew it in the pit of his stomach as the smell of smoke wafted through the front door.

"She's gone." He said simply, not wanting to let himself feel grief yet.

"Yeah I can see that." Julian said dimly as he continued to look around the room.

Asra scowled at him.

"No, she's gone. Gone gone. She went to the Lazaret"

But Julian had stopped paying attention. He had begun to reach down for the letter on the jacket.

"No! Poison!" Faust whispered into Asra's mind. She had slithered off towards Julian, trying to prevent him from opening the letter. Understanding clicked in Asra's mind. He knew exactly what was in that letter. He knew what kind of person Astrid was, always trying to stop someone's pain. She would have preferred to be forgotten than missed.

"Don't!" He shouted, reaching out to stop Julians hand from breaking the seal on it. It was too late. The letter burst open and Julian's face was clouded in a haze of silver smoke. Asra dragged Julian out of it, coughing and sneezing. His eyes looked foggy as the open letter fluttered to the floor. Julians gaze was slightly vacant, but as Asra shook his shoulders, he seemed to have begun to come back to himself.

"Where am I?" He asked, looking around. He reached up a hand and ran it through his hair, seemingly trying to stifle an emerging headache. He looked disoriented. 

"Astrid, do you remember Astrid?" Asra asked quickly, shaking his shoulders again. Julians eyes seemed to click to life a little bit, but Asra could tell that something was still missing.

"Yeah, she's my apprentice. Working at the clinic. Smart girl." Julian said a little sleepily. He looked like he was struggling to remember something else, but it caused him so much pain that he stopped.

"Did you have a relationship with her?" Asra asked. Julian looked affronted and offended at being asked such a person question.

"Have a relationship? With my pupil? I mean I've certainly thought about it, she's very attractive, but I have more important-" Julian went on, and Asra threw him away from himself. He sunk to the floor and put his head in his hands. The Forget-me powder hadn't worked properly, but Julian had still lost his most recent memories of Astrid. He still wasn't sure if that would be for the better or the worse.

He was now alone in his grief. He stood, leaving Julian to babble on the floor about ethics and sexual harassment in the workplace. As he stepped outside and made his way down the street, thoughts ran so quickly through his mind he could barely keep track of them.

He didn't know how, but he would find her, wherever she had gone. He would bring her back. He kept the sadness and despair buried deep in his heart, and very quickly he locked it away.

Before he knew it he found himself standing on a hilly street overlooking the harbor. The shadow of the Lazaret rose out of the water like some horrible monument to a failure he felt like he now was responsible for. Smoke pillars rose out of it in long, spiraling swirls. They mocked him.

He would find her, no matter the cost, and bring her back.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alright last chapter in this one.

" _ I remember. _ " 

 

My eyes fly open, and like a swaying ship, the world suddenly rights itself. Pieces of puzzles I didn't know existed fall into place, painting a picture of the past I had lost. Warm hands, the smell of rose petals, whispers of sweet nothings panted in my ear. A pair of warm, silver eyes, a crooked smile, and the smell of herbal antiseptic. The image is set, and where the vision had once been blacked out, it was now full of vivid color and memories I had never dreamed I had once possessed. Life, and love, and my own death, all flashing and filling my mind. I felt no pain from this, no lingering headache that threatened my consciousness as had usually been the case. I feel completely clear-minded and drunk on happiness at the same time.

 

_ Julian _ . It had been him, it had always been him, from the moment I saw him inside the shop, blood dripping from his brow where I had hit him with the bottle. I knew I had seen him before, and now I understood why. I had loved him, wholly and completely. He had been mine, body and soul, and I laugh to myself for a moment, completely delirious with the pleasure and shame of forgetting it all. How could I ever have forgotten him? How could I have forgotten his cocksure smile and lilting voice, delicate Nevivonian accent curling around every word he spoke. 

 

As quickly as the happiness overwhelms me, the hot stone groundFeet are pounding around me, and for a moment I forgot where I was. Voices swim through my mind, though I pay no attention to them, until a familiar one pierces my glee.

 

"Astrid? Astrid are you alright?" Its Portia, I realize. She's leaning over me, worry twisting her brow and her tender mouth.  _ She's got his freckles _ , I think to myself, still giddy with the truth of my own past.

 

"We need to get to the palace!" She's saying, trying to lift me up. She doesn't have her brothers strength, but she does have his tenacity. She's lifting me quickly, and I scramble to my feet. Right, the hanging. We needed to get to Julian's body. He's alive, I have no worry. I saw him in the Hanged Man's realm, he had gotten his knowledge, and I had gotten mine in return.

 

"He's coming back." I say, smiling like an eager drunk as she starts pulling me down the street.

 

"What?" She calls absentmindedly, steering us through the crowd which shambles away from the gallows. How long have I been out? The body is already gone, and the crowd of onlookers look half as plentiful as they had been at the moment of the drop.

 

We make our way through the streets, and I absentmindedly play with the edges of my hair. It had never grown past my shoulders, no matter how well I had taken care of it, and I wondered if Julian would care that it wasn't long anymore. I remembered that he had braided for me, and twirled it around his fingers in the early morning after making love to her during the night.

 

What if he didn't feel the same way anymore? Now that I had changed so much since coming back. The shorter hair that never grew, the new tattoos I had gotten over the past three years, runes to stabilize my memory, star maps so I would never lose my way again, both literally and metaphorically. What if he no longer loved me for who I was now?

 

Well, I would just have to find out for myself. Portia leads us up the streets and stairs that bring us to the palace. She ignores the hellos of every other servant who calls out to her, and we enter the library quickly. She slams the door behind us and locks it again.

 

The trip down to the dungeons is quicker than I remember, and I'm so lost in my thoughts that I don't even pay attention as we shuffle into the elevator and begin descending into the blistering, claustrophobic warmth of the dungeons below.

 

"They must be in here, I wonder-" Portia coos thoughtfully as we make our way in through the door at the end of the tunnel. She stops so quickly that I run straight into her back and nearly fall back on my ass. 

 

"Get away from him!" She shrieks and rushes into the room. I peer into the doorway quick enough to see Portia launching herself furiously towards Valdemar, who had been holding a scalpel just above a body. I shudder.  _ Julia _ 's body. Valdemar shrieks and jumps back, dropping the scalpel under the force of Portia's tiny fists pounding towards their head. She throws bottles of mysterious, viscous liquids at them as they're chased from the room.

 

It happens so suddenly that the action of Julian gasping and sitting up quickly on the table makes me shriek and fall fully back onto my ass this time. He looks around in a panic, gasping for breath, the mark on his throat shining star-bright before fading away entirely. His eyes meet mine from where I'm sprawled out on the floor.

 

" _ I remember _ ." He breaths, and from the look in his eyes, I know. A smile cracks, wide and blissful, across his face, and he reaches his arms out to me, waiting. I don't need any other indication. I rush up to him, flinging myself into his arms with a force that nearly knocks him off the operating table. His legs come up around my sides and his arms wrap around me so tightly that I'm enveloped the warm cocoon of him.

 

"Oh darling, I remember everything." He breaths in the smell of my hair and sighs, for once feeling completely at ease. No tensing, no shifting away from my touch. I'm shaking. The memories are too much all at once, and when I lift my head from his chest to look into his eyes, I'm surprised to feel wetness running heavy down my cheeks. His smile breaks a little and he runs both his thumbs down from my eyes to my lips, catching the tears that had sprang from my eyes.

 

The look in his face is so tender that it feels like my heart has stopped.

 

"I remember you too." I say back, breathless and my voice cracks as more tears spill out onto my cheeks. For a moment, he's back to his old self, face splitting in that shit-eating smirk he wears so often.

 

"Oh yeah? Prove it then." I know he's kidding, but I spring forward and take his bottom lip between my teeth, biting hard and digging a hand into the hair at the base of his neck. He groans, surprised but not upset, and his fingers clench around my throat reflexively. It stops me short, and he pulls back, eyes lidded so heavily that I'm surprised he can see me. He smiles again, this time a little more timid and his breath is husky.

 

"I was only kidding, baby. This isn't the place." His voice is deflecting, but the hard bulge in his pants is saying something different. 

 

"Let's move to your office then." And I surge forward again, this time his resolve breaks, and he presses back into me, fingers moving from my throat to paw wildly at my shirt. He rips it open, breaking buttons now, but I can hardly find it in me to care. I'm pulling him off the slab now, and he climbs off after me, still kissing me wildly. 

 

I don't even realize how we managed to unlock the door to his cell-like office, but we tumble onto the cot. He's over me again, mapping out the contours of my chest like he can't believe he's touching me.

 

"Skirt." He says shortly, barely taking any time between breaths as he moves his mouth down to my breasts. I shift up, and arch quickly up into his mouth as he bites hard at the side of one of my breasts. I groan and he licks his apology down the mark he left there. One of his hands travels down to help me rid myself of the skirt, digging his fingers into the edge of the waist high slit until we both tug it down my legs.

 

"No underwear?" He croons and begins tugging at the waistband of his own pants.

 

"I hate panty lines." I respond and tug his shirt off. He laughs breathlessly against my skin.

 

"You've changed. Not much, but enough that I notice. Your hair is shorter now, same color, but it used to be so long." He looks back up at me from between my thighs-  _ how did he get there? _

 

"It won't grow anymore." I whine as he teases along the inside of my thighs.

 

"You dress differently too. You show more skin now. You used to look like a nun with the high collar and long skirt. The new tattoos are hot, too." He's practically purring now.

 

"Did you just say I looked like a fucking nu-" he finally puts his mouth on me now, and my words are cut off by the long whine that tears itself out of my throat. He groans back in reply, licking and sucking at me in earnest, no more teasing. He remembers exactly where my weak spots are, sending bolts of electricity running through my every nerve and blood vessel.

 

"Stop, wait,  _ Julian fuck _ \- I'm close already-" he slips two fingers inside me now, and his other hand is stroking the outside of my leg, trying to soothe my shivers. He crooks his fingers up into that spot that  _ I can't believe he remembered where it Is- _

 

Sparks shoot in my eyes, blinding me with white hot vision as my thighs snap tight while waves of burning hit pleasure course their way through my muscles. Through the haze of my slowly fading orgasm, I feel Julian move, shaking slightly as he slips, hilt deep into me. I'm still clenching rhythmically around him as I hear him groan into my ear.

 

"I'm sorry, darling, I have to- I need you-" He pants, and without much preamble, he's thrusting now, hard and frantic like he can't get enough of me.

 

"Julian -  _ ah fuck _ \- it's okay, love." I cry back, burying my face into the crook of his neck, holding onto his shoulders for dear life. He's shaking like a sapling in the wind beneath my fingers, and his hands are cupping my sides with a desperation I never thought possible from him.

 

The entire cot is jerking back and forth beneath us, and I'm worried for a second that it'll break. Julian shudders suddenly, letting out a low groan has he thrusts once, twice, and a third time more into me before he's buried to the hilt and twitching against my walls.

 

We're quiet for a long time, just breathing each other in and trying to bring ourselves down from the mutual high. He runs his fingers up my side, resting his palms against my cheeks. I turn my head to face him, totally pliant and unyielding. He's smiling, not his normally roguish grin, but a softer one. It was startling tender, and it tugged at his lips like he was unsure if it was allowed to be there.

 

"I love you. I still love you." He says so softly I can barely hear it. There's bliss in his face, but hiding behind it is a touch of sadness.

 

"I remember so much. The first time I saw you at the clinic, with your hair down and your constellation shawl." He runs a hand through my hair now, the ends of it still feeling singed away. He moves his hand down and rests his thumb against my bottom lip, pulling it down slightly and looking lost in a good memory.

 

"I remember the first time I kissed you, outside the bar that night. I was so nervous, you were so beautiful and sweet and I thought… I thought maybe you wouldn't…"

 

"You thought I wouldn't have wanted you?" I finish for him. His eyes meet mine again, and he looks bashful, embarrassed. He nods.

 

"I'm not a good person, darling. I've done some bad things, even before I came to Vesuvia to help with the Plague. I thought maybe I could protect you from that part of me if I kept you at a distance."

 

"But you didn't." I counter, the words hitting harder than I wanted them to. He looks like I had just slapped him.

 

"I'm not an entirely good person either, Julian. No one is. We've all done some really shitty things for people we care about. That doesn't mean we don't deserve love." He looks afraid of what I'm saying, like he doesn't want to believe it.

 

"Darling-" He starts again, trying to pry himself off of me. I clamp my arms down on his shoulders and lock his waist in such a vice with my thighs that I'm worried I might break him.

 

"No, listen to me. I love you, Julian. I love you with my entire being and heart. I don't care what you've done, just like I don't think you care what I've done. We are going to get through this. We are going to stop Lucio, and we are going to do that together. Afterwards, I am going to spend my life with you, if you want me to. There's no room for argument. Am I clear?" As I rant at him, I slowly sit up and press him backwards until he's got me seated in his lap. I finish the speech with a sharp tug at the hair on the base of his neck. I'm not in the mood to argue with him, not after how long I had been looking for these memories. He's staring at me, open mouthed and gaping.

 

For a moment, I think I may have gone too far. He looks shocked, and I'm afraid he's going to run off away from me at the first sign of commitment. Then his eyes dilate, the silver being completely swallowed up by his pupils. He swallows thickly, and a smile tugs at the corners of his thin lips.  _ Oh my god what a pervert, he can't take anything seriously- _

 

"Yes, ma'am." He groans, and surges up at me again. He pulls me down on top of him, and for the second time that day we tangle around each other, getting lost in each others body's and touches.

 

* * *

 

 

"How are you feeling, love?"

 

"Julian, get off of me, I'm fine, I'm just  _ pregnant _ , you dork. I'm not dying again." Julian steps back, putting his hands on his waist and looking very offended.

 

"Hey, that's not funny."

 

"I'm the one who died, if anyone is going to joke about it it's going to be me." I laugh back. I'm trying to climb the shrouds up to the crows nest, but it's harder noe than it had been eight months ago when I wasn't as massive. My foot gets tangled in the rope, and I start to tumble, righting myself only when Julian intervenes and grabs my hips.

 

"You can't go climbing around like this anymore. Come back to the cabin, have Maz take a look at you." He looks imploringly at me. I sigh, defeat ruffling my already annoyed feathers as I let him help me down.

 

"Fine, fine. I just miss being able to do things." He guides me across the deck of the swaying ship. The waters are calm today, and I can see the Vesuvian harbor on the horizon. "How much longer till we get home?"

 

"Another night, probably. I want to make sure we can get you to the palace in time, you're already close to bursting." He replies gently, opening the door into the captain's quarters and sitting me down on the small bed. Even when we first started this journey and I wasn't twice as large as I am now, it had been too small for the two of us. Julian had tangled up around me in every way possible, until the full moon passed on our first month out and I hadn't bled. That was when he decided that he was fine sleeping on the floor, or at the captain's desk.

 

He tucks the quilts and furs around me, taking extra care to place a pillow under my shoulders. I'm not the kind of person who enjoys being babied, but the look on his face is so tender I don't bother slapping his hands away. The door opens behind us, and Mazelinka and Portia both squeeze in. Portia is holding something behind her back looking anxious, and Mazelinka is cradling a bowl of her Pep-Up potion.

 

I shoot a look at Julian, who is conveniently avoiding my gaze.

 

"I told you guys, I feel fine. I'm just pregnant, I can still do things around the ship." Mazelinka puts the bowl in my hands firmly, leaving no room for argument as she drops a spoon into it.

 

"Don't want you going into labor on the ship." She says gruffly. She turns to Julian.

 

"Ilya, you slippery boy! I told you to man the sails while I made this!" She barks. Julian scrambles back, subconsciously staying spoon-range out of her reach.

 

"Well I was going to but Astrid was trying to climb up to the crows nest!" He counters, dancing away from her as Maz begins swinging her large spoon at him.

 

"Out, boy, or we're going to crash!" She chases Julian out of the room, leaving just me and Portia. She's still holding something behind her back, looking nervous but excited.

 

"Portia? What's behind your back?" I ask, leaning around, trying to get a look at it. She grins and sits down next to me on the bed. Her freckles had become even more prominent since we left Vesuvia all those months ago, and her skin had a healthy glow to it.

 

"Well, I got you something." She says excitedly. I look at her curiously and she finally reveals what she had been hiding behind her back. It was a tiny, black kitten, barely the size of her palm. It's eyes were still closed, and it had a tiny, white, moon shaped mark on its back.

 

"Pepi had kittens last week, I didn't want to tell anyone because you know how allergic Mazelinka is, and I don't even know when she got pregnant, but it was probably when we stopped in the Dread Isles a few weeks ago, and-"

 

"Portia." I stop her before she can ramble excitedly on. "Why are you showing me this one?"

 

She brightens, smiling widely.

 

"Well, you're baby is going to be magic like you, and witches need familiars." She explains and holds the kitten out to me again. I stare at her.

 

"You… you got my baby a familiar?" I ask, voice sudden my choked. I gently take the kitten from her hands and cradle it softly. It mewls and nuzzles my palm, looking for something to suckle on. Having lost my own familiar before I died, this was an amazing present.

 

"Well I thought it would be nice. She'll need to stay with Pepi for a few more weeks, but I figured-"

 

I stop her again, this time with a hug, careful to keep the kitten out of my stomachs way.

 

"Thank you."

 

Portia leans back and smiles at me, happy tears spilling out of the corner of her eyes.

 

"Of course. What are you going to call her?" She asks, petting the kitten gently.

 

"Hekate." I decide. It seemed fitting for some reason, and Portia smiles in agreement.

 

As Portia leaves the room with the kitten a few minutes later, I lean back into the pillows behind me and think, running my stomach thoughtfully. The baby kicked softly against my skin, turning around and feeling like it was trying to get comfortable. I grin. Whoever, they are, they're going to be as rowdy as their father.

  
  


* * *

  
  


It happens just as the ship pulls into the Vesuvian harbor. The contractions aren't as bad first, and I had initially thought they were simply stomach cramps from Mazelinka's potion. Now, though? That was a very different story.

 

"JULIAN!" I scream, gripping the wooden edges of the bed so hard I can feel my fingernails sinking into them slightly. Julian is running around like a chicken with its head cut off, grabbing blankets and yelling for Mazelinka.

 

"Just hang on, darling!" He shouts and tosses the blankets onto me. "I'm going to get you to the palace, we just docked!"

 

I feel the boat shudder and stop moving in the water. The sound of the anchor dropping into the water is load through the side of the boat.

 

"I'm not going anywhere." I groan, and another contraction shudders through my body, pulling my muscles taut until I'm screaming again.

 

"Don't be silly, darling, you can't give birth on the ship-"

 

"I. Am. Not.  _ Moving _ ." I growl. Julian gulps a little and looks nervously between me and the door, like he's trying to see if he could grab me quickly enough to run out. He glances back at me, and I'm not sure if it was the deadly look in my eye, or the trembling of my legs, but he looks reigned.

 

"Alright, but we'll need help."

 

An hour later, Asra comes rushing into the room. He looks tanner than he had last time I saw him, and his hair was cropped short now. Julian trails in after him, rushing over to me to grab my hand. Sweat is pouring over my face now, and the contractions are coming every minute or so.

 

"I'm here, darling, you're doing so well." He crooks shakily and kisses my forehead. Asra settles himself between my legs and lifts the blanket.

 

"Astrid, you're crowning. Julian, out. Send in Mazelinka." He barks. Julian looks offended.

 

"Asra, I'm a doctor-"

 

"Ilya, you do not want to be in here. Leave and send in Mazelinka."

 

Julian looks like he wants to argue, but he sighs, kisses me once more, and leaves the room. I sit back farther and look up at Asra. He looks determined.

 

"Alright, Astrid. Move to the edge of the bed and get ready to push."

 

 

* * *

  
  
  


Julian paces outside the door to the living quarters. It's been over an hour. The swaying of the ship makes his stomach turn even more.

 

"Julian, please sit down. You're making me nauseous." Nadia calls feebly from across the deck. She's got her head in her hands, her long hair swaying across her shoulders. Portia is sitting beside her, holding her hand and stroking her back.

 

"I'm nervous, it's been forever. What if-" He stops as he hears Astrid scream from below deck. He's halfway through the door when Portia pulls him back out.

 

"Ilya, she's fine. Asra and Mazelinka are both midwives." She pulls Julian back towards the crates where she had Nadia had been perched. Malak is gliding above them, swooping down over the water like he's looking for fish. He lands on Julians shoulder a moment later and croaks, obviously trying to comfort him. Julian sighs and scritches below his beak, preening his feathers for him.

 

"I know, I know. She's tough. She'll be okay." He sits down next to Portia and she leans her head against his arm.

 

"You're going to be an aunt." He says, strained but cheeky. Portia giggles.

 

"Yeah, and you're going to be a dad." 

 

Julian tenses. He's going to be a dad. He's going to be a  _ dad _ . 

 

"Oh that's a lot of responsibility." He groans and puts his head in his hands. What if he's not ready for this? What if he's a failure?

 

The door to the living quarters opens. Julian stands up so suddenly that Portia's head slips onto the crate where he had been sitting. He ignores her cries of indignation and Nadia soothes her. Mazelinka stands in the doorway, looking unruffled but excited.

 

"Well? Get down here, boy."

 

They climb down into the captain's room, and Julian sees Astrid laying on the bed, sweaty, pale, and shaking. But she's alive, and her eyes are moon bright. She's cradling something in her arms, a tint little bundle wrapped in black linen. She looks up at him and smiles. 

 

"Come say hello to your daughter." She says shakily. The world drops out from under Julians feet and he walks forward slowly. Everything disappears except himself, Astrid, and the bundle in her arms. He reaches down and cradles her head as Astrid passes her over. She's got beautiful gray eyes, and a small tuft of dark red hair. She's crying, and Julian realizes he is too.

 

"Oh my gods." He murmurs, completely stunned. He grins, tears running down his face. He hears two more pairs of footsteps enter the cramped room. He doesn't care, doesn't pay attention. Nothing else matters except his  _ daughter _ . He has a  _ daughter _ . 

 

"Oh what a handsome baby boy." He hears Nadia coo. 

 

"Its a girl." He says absentmindedly, but Nadia isn't standing behind him.

 

"That one is," Asra says cheekily, "but this one is a boy."

 

Julian turns, and sees Asra holding a baby as well, this one wrapped in a blue linen cloth. _Wait_.

 

"Twins." Astrid sighs and gestures for him to sit next to her.  _ Twins _ . Asra brings the other baby over and sets him carefully in Astrid's arms. Julian's breath leaves his body. The boy has Astrid's eyes, bottle-green and bright, and he has Julians own ginger curls.  _A son, he has a son, too-_

 

"Twins." He says blanky. He can't believe it.  _ Twins _ . Astrid smiles up at him, and she looks so exhausted but so full of life that it chokes him.

 

"You're a doctor, Ilyushka, how did you not notice it was twins?" Mazelinka scolds him, but she doesn't reach for her spoon. Instead she rests a hand on his shoulder and and smiles down at him. He looks around. Nadia has her arms wrapped around Portia, looking happy and wistful. Portia is crying, saying ' _I can't believe I'm an aunt_ ' over and over again. Asra is cleaning up the blood soaked rags on the floor, and Julian can also see happy tears glazing his eyes.

 

He's surrounded by family, by people who love him. And their ranks just grew by two more.

 

"Hey."

 

He turns to look at Astrid, sweaty and tired and more beautiful than he had ever seen her before. His heart leaps into his throat.

 

"I love you." She says softly, and kisses him. The babies settle down suddenly, fast asleep in their parents' arms. He never would have imagined this, not in his entire life, to be so loved. He's crying openly now.

 

"I love you too."


End file.
